


Before Our Start and After Our End

by psychepomegranates, spinsters_grave



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Cyberpunk, Cyborg!Shiro - Freeform, Discovering One's Own Humanity, Fluff and Humor, Humanity, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, NOVA SMART THE END -mac, Nova is a definite moron, Nova’s bad humor, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, The SHIRO, another one yes i know, desert fic, nova says to put "nova is a moron" but we all know that ain't true, nova's the smartest one out of the three of us, survivalist!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychepomegranates/pseuds/psychepomegranates, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsters_grave/pseuds/spinsters_grave
Summary: BEFOREBlack long hair settled on broad armored shoulders. Two armored shoulders that were connected to two fully automated prosthetic arms..."What did they do you?" Keith whispered to the figure, who remained unaware of Keith’s presence and all other threats while forced into a coma-like state.AFTER“I think I like it out here,” Shiro said softly. It was a natural sound in the desert coming out of an unnatural man. “I haven’t had much opportunity to like things. I don’t know what it feels like.”“It makes you feel warm inside. Happy,” Keith said. “You could enjoy what it is you like for hours and not get tired of it.”At some point, the before and the after become the simple now.





	1. After I

Leaving the facility was kind of a blur, but they made it out somehow.

 

The SHIRO was almost unresponsive, stumbling along the edge of the highway in Keith’s jacket. They stayed close to the railing on bridges and in the rare forested area (which were mostly glorified bushes, but animals out here would eat _anything),_ and though the moon shed little light, they stayed in sight of the road.

 

“Almost there,” Keith grunted, even if he didn’t know where “there” was, and had been saying that for the past hour, at least. The SHIRO didn’t respond.

 

All Keith knew was the need to get away. This had ceased to be revenge; no, this had become the fallout. He was so utterly unprepared.

 

The stars watched as Keith and the SHIRO, weary travellers, stumble their way across the desert. Keith wished he knew what they were thinking, either of him or of the world at large. Maybe they thought he was foolish. Maybe they thought everyone was at least a little bit foolish.

 

The warm glow of the sunrise nudged at the edge of the sky as Keith finally saw their destination. This time, when he said, “Almost there,” he meant it. Still, the SHIRO didn’t respond, and though Keith wanted to go faster, further, adrenaline coursing through his body, he resisted. The SHIRO had one mode of transport at the moment, and it was his aching feet and Keith’s support. He couldn’t go as fast as Keith wanted.

 

So they entered town only as the sun fully crested the horizon, fumbling their way through shadowed suburbs and trying to stay out of sight of the early birds nestled in their homes. There had better be a cheap motel around here. Hopefully they’d be able to find one without directions. Keith wasn’t about to ask a local. Not with the SHIRO slung around his shoulders, looking like _that._ Like he’d drowned in the desert and been brought back to life as a flayed corpse.

 

Like an answer to a prayer, or the good kind of karma, the bright red logo of a Motel Six loomed at the end of the street Keith turned into. He almost collapsed right then and there at the sheer sight of it. The street between them and it looked almost as long as the desert they had crossed, but for Keith, the time passed in a second. Less even.

 

They stumbled into the lobby, the SHIRO hanging off of Keith at this point. He eased him onto a floral print chair, where the SHIRO collapsed like a boneless rag doll. Keith’s own bones reminded him how much he wanted to collapse, too.

 

The attendant watched Keith approach with wide eyes. She was too shocked to even put down her magazine, which Keith would have found amusing at any other time.

 

“One room, please,” Keith rasped, his voice more ragged than usual. The attendant put her magazine face down and nodded slowly, never turning her owl-wide eyes from Keith until she had to look at her computer.

 

“We—” She licked her lips— “We have a room upstairs for 41 dollars.”

 

Keith fished for his wallet in his various pockets, pausing when he felt the bulletproof vest under his shirt. “Can I pay you tomorrow—tonight?” He had almost forgotten that most people hadn’t stayed up through the night, and thought five o’clock a time when it was morning, not just very late.

 

The attendant pursed her lips, glancing around Keith to the SHIRO still slumped in the chair. She audibly swallowed and grimaced. “Yes, that’s—that’s what you do.”

 

“Thank you,” Keith said, injecting maybe more gratitude in his voice than he should have.

 

“Room 26,” the attendant said, sliding over a plastic white key card. Keith took it before she could change her mind.

 

“Thank you,” he said again, going over to the SHIRO. He strained to pick him up, but the SHIRO helped him a little, and they struggled to the door. Keith didn’t see the attendant lean back in her chair and put a hand over her heart.

 

They stumbled up the metal staircase, the SHIRO so dead he was basically pulling Keith’s arm out of its socket; Keith ached for the bed.

 

He found Room 26 in the soft gray light of the pre-dawn. The brass numbers didn’t sparkle. Keith doubted they could do anything other than glint, and only then on the good days. He knocked on the door in case anyone was in there, and when there wasn’t a sound, ran the plastic card once, twice over the scanner until it allowed them entry.

 

“We’re here,” Keith said to the SHIRO. “Finally.”

 

The SHIRO responded for the first time, lifting his head and shrugging off Keith’s supporting arm to slump over to the closest bed, where he promptly collapsed, face down.

 

Keith sighed and clicked the door shut. He would have liked to check that the door was secure, that there weren’t any video cameras in the bathroom, that there wasn’t a dead body in the closet or mice in the medicine cabinet or cockroaches under the pillow, but the bed called to him, and he did not try to pretend he could resist its allure.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t wake up again until three in the afternoon, after the sun had peaked but was still roasting the people outside and whoever was foolish enough to leave off the AC (including Keith and the SHIRO). It was bright. Even through the blinds.

 

The SHIRO was sitting on his bed, back perfectly straight, hands braced on his knees. He looked like he was trying to bore a hole through the far wall.

 

“Morning,” Keith grunted, then as he checked the clock, corrected, “Afternoon.”

 

The SHIRO remained silent.

 

Keith went to take a leak. He came back to the SHIRO in the same position, still burning the motel down around their ears with his glare.

 

“I’m going to get food,” Keith announced. “You’re welcome to come with if you want.”

 

The SHIRO looked at him then, and his expression softened, his face opening to something entirely opposite from his intense stare. Something soft. Vulnerable. The SHIRO got up, and Keith noted that he was in excess of six feet, which was entirely too tall. He nodded.

 

Well, that was mildly odd, but Keith wasn’t about to say anything. At least the SHIRO was moving, responding. Sleep must have helped, though it couldn’t have been comfortable, sleeping on his face like that.

 

Keith grabbed the plastic key card from the dresser. Again, there had better be an easily findable McDonald’s or grocery store or, hell, an ATM, they needed cash. Keith found his discarded bulletproof vest and dug around for his wallet. God. He better not have dropped it.

 

“Ready,” Keith said, finding the thin leather of his wallet. “Uh—“

 

The SHIRO was standing at attention by the door. Keith watched him for a minute, waiting for him to move. As far as he could tell, the SHIRO hadn’t moved a muscle.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

The SHIRO nodded, short and sharp. He followed Keith out, always a step or two behind, choosing to let Keith decide where to go.

 

There was an ATM at the corner of the motel. Keith loathed to use his credit card to withdraw money—they were always tracking you, and Keith didn’t want those prying eyes—but there were little other options. So he withdrew sixty bucks from his account, giving his back and thick hair to the cameras watching him. And to the SHIRO watching him.

 

Keith side-eyed the… was he human? Cyborg? A very realistic robot?

 

Back when he had friends, other than Pidge and Hunk, he knew a guy who went to an art museum somewhere in Europe. There was a photography portrait contest there, he had told Keith, and they showed off the first, second, and third place winners. Keith forgot what the first and second place winners were, but as he contemplated the SHIRO, he remembered the third place winner—a portrait of an ageless girl looking off to the right of the photographer, her background a cool, powdery blue to complement the dark blue of her clothes, and how she was a robot, and how you could never guess. Not even when you knew.

 

Keith wouldn’t ask. Not yet. Maybe not ever, though he was sure that if he brought the SHIRO to Pidge, she would ask a million questions, the least of which would be “What are you?”

 

 _Pidge._ Keith’s breath seized in his throat—he needed to tell her and Hunk what had happened, about the uninvited guest he had accidentally brought into all of this, about the change in plans. She was going to kill him.

 

The ATM beeped and spit out three twenty dollar bills. Keith blinked for a second, then grabbed the cash as quickly as he could and put it in his wallet before he thought anyone could see. He fidgeted as he waited for the receipt. He snatched it as it came out and turned away in almost one movement, making him feel very cool.

 

“Done,” Keith announced to the SHIRO. “Let’s find some food. You hungry?”

 

The SHIRO blinked at him a couple times, then nodded his assent. “Good. I’m hungry too,” Keith said.

 

He didn’t ask the motel attendant, if she was still there, directions to the closest gas station or fast food joint. The town they were in was small. They would find something.

 

What they found, after half an hour of wandering, was a Mexican, sort of pan-Latin American place. They had burritos, yes, but also frijoles negros con arroz and arepas. It smelled irresistible.

 

There was an old man behind the counter who looked at the SHIRO like he wanted to dissect him. Keith was almost grateful, if sympathy could be called gratitude; usually those kinds of looks were thrown in _his_ direction.

 

He directed the SHIRO to sit in a booth (which took some trial and error, but they got there eventually) and ordered frijoles negros con arroz for himself and a bean burrito for the SHIRO. The man behind the counter wordlessly handed them a number.

 

They sat in silence, waiting for the food to come out. Usually this was fine—Keith was used to an all-encompassing silence by now—but somehow, silence with another person, with a basic stranger, was uncomfortable. What do you even _say_ to someone you stole from a government facility?

 

“So,” Keith said softly.

 

“Thank you,” the SHIRO said almost immediately. “For rescuing me.”

 

Keith nodded in confusion. “No, uh, no need to thank me.”

 

The SHIRO blinked. “Common courtesy is to thank individuals who help you in times of trouble.”

 

Keith nodded shortly. “I know. That—” He didn’t finish. He barely knew what to say. Was there anything to say? Could they just stay silent around each other forever?

 

Their food came. Keith watched the SHIRO hesitate around the burrito; usually, burritos are pretty easy to eat, but maybe the SHIRO just didn't know. Had never had the opportunity to know.

 

“Just cut it,” Keith said, after watching Shiro struggle with it for a minute. He jolted forward to point at the fork and knife. “You can’t pick it up. It’s got cheese on it.”

 

Shiro gave him a questioning look, then picked up the fork and knife and cut the burrito open in the middle, spilling beans and meat into the rice. “Like that?”

 

“Cut a piece small enough to eat,” was all Keith had to say. The SHIRO did so, and for a second Keith thought he was going to have to tell him to put the food in his mouth. Then they were fine. They might have some work to do to make the SHIRO find his place in all this, but they were fine.

 

Keith had fifty cents in change, which turned out to be the exact change he needed to use the payphone on the corner to call Pidge and Hunk. They must have been frantic. Terrified, even.

 

Pidge answered on the second ring. “Pidge Gunderson speaking.” Her voice was lower, distorted. She was in disguise, apparently; he’d seen the voice box she used once, after they had become close friends and he had earned her trust.

 

“Pidge. It’s Keith.”

 

There came the sounds of someone reacting strongly on the other end of the line, and of Pidge yelling “Hunk!” though her proximity from the telephone made her voice muffled and tinny. “It’s Keith!”

 

Keith waited, twirling the phone’s cord on his index finger, then letting it slip off, only to twirl it again. So it goes.

 

“Hey, Keith,” Hunk’s voice said over the phone, sounding as casual as when Keith had broken his leg falling from a tree. “How’s it going?”

 

“It’s going fine,” Keith said automatically, then silently cursed. “Actually, no, it’s not going fine. I don’t know the name of the town I’m in and I have a—” he glanced at the SHIRO— “a surprise package. This whole thing did not turn out great. Please come pick me up.”

 

“I’m tracking your location,” Pidge said.

 

“We are in Woodruff, Arizona,” the SHIRO said. Keith glanced over to see his eyes almost rolled completely back, his fingers moving in an elaborate dance only he knew about. “With the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints and the Woodruff branch of the United States Postal Service.” His eyes rolled back down to look at Keith. “Please tell them to meet us at the Postal Service branch. That is the recommended meeting point in all American cities.”

 

“Uh,” Keith said, rather grandiloquently. “Okay. We’re in Woodruff. Can you meet us at the post office?”

 

Pidge was quiet for a second, then burst into noise. “Okay. Yeah. Yep. I see you. Hey, Keith. Jesus. That place is really out of the way. How did you even get there? No, not important, you can tell me later. We’re about, Jesus, three _hours_ away. Hang tight. We’ll get there around—” she paused again, and said something unintelligible to Hunk, who said something unintelligible back— “at around six. Hang tight until we get there.”

 

Keith checked his watch. He had about four hours. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

 

He did hang up the phone on them, but he knew Pidge and Hunk wouldn’t care. They were probably already talking in their own language, almost ignorant of Keith’s existence except for the fact they needed to retrieve him.

 

“Four hours,” Keith says, for the benefit of the SHIRO. “They’ll be here in four hours.”

 

The SHIRO said nothing to that, for which Keith was grateful.

 

* * *

 

There was nothing in the motel room for them to grab, so Keith waited in the motel lobby, lounging on one of the floral print chairs scattered around. They were covered in plastic, which he hadn’t noticed last night. This morning. It crinkled whenever he moved.

 

The television in the corner was muttering the news from a static-filled screen. It was too quiet to hear over the screaming patron at the customer. Keith did his best to not listen to whatever he was saying, so he watched the silent news. They were talking about the weather, which was what it would always be in the desert. Hot.

 

Keith rubbed his forehead, trying to wipe away a burgeoning headache as the person just kept screaming and screaming. The SHIRO was lucky. It didn’t have to listen to any of this.

 

When he looked up again, the SHIRO’s face was spread across the screen.

 

Keith sat forward (he didn’t know when he had slumped back) in an effort to listen better. There were bullet points in white text next to the picture, but they were too far away to read; Keith stealthily got up and tried to read what was written there.

 

As he got closer, he could hear what was being said better. But it, along with the white text and the height lines behind the SHIRO’s head, didn’t make a lick of sense.

 

“... confirming rumor from the recently bombed GALRA headquarters, located in Phoenix, Arizona, that a confidential bioweapon that is currently in development has been stolen from their facility. This man, along with one other, is suspected to be one of the thieves.”

 

The image switched over to blurry security camera footage. Keith recognized himself as a dark blob in the green night-vision lab, duck from one light green canister to another, then rummage through a desk. The video froze on a frame where he had looked over his shoulder to investigate a noise. They slapped a circle over his head and zoomed in, though the quality was terrible.

 

“This is the other man believed to be connected to the break-in, robbery, and bombing. They are considered armed and dangerous. If you have any information regarding these individuals, please contact—”

 

Keith reached over and shut the television off.

 

_Shit._

 

* * *

 

The SHIRO said nothing about his pacing, though several passersby shot him odd looks. Keith did his best to ignore them all.

 

Did they have a price on their heads? It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Though in hindsight, Keith didn’t know how it _was_ supposed to end. Not with the SHIRO, at least.

 

“We were on the news,” the SHIRO said suddenly. Keith jumped five miles high and whirled on the SHIRO.

 

“What? How do you know?” he asked. “Jesus. How long have you known?”

 

The SHIRO reached up to touch his head. “Internet access.”

 

“You’re a hotspot?”

 

“I have refrained from calling the police,” the SHIRO said instead of answering Keith’s question. “GALRA incorporated has set a price on us.”

 

“Thanks,” Keith said. Out of curiosity, he asked, “How much?”

 

Before the SHIRO could answer, a familiar battered, green van rolled into the post office’s parking lot. Keith quit his pacing and waved his arms in big motions, though they were the only people in the lot.

 

The van skidded to a stop next to where Keith and the SHIRO were standing. The sliding door on the side swung open, revealing Pidge, who waved frantically at him.

 

“Get in!” she whisper-shouted. “Is _that_ the surprise package? I’m going to kill you! How could you not explain this to me! Hurry up!”

 

Keith scrambled into the car. When he gestured, the SHIRO followed quickly behind. Pidge slammed the door shut the second the SHIRO cleared his foot.

 

“Go, go, go!” she said as she banged the divider.

 

Hunk’s irritated voice was muffled, but his words were clear. “Don’t hurry me! We’re not in an action movie.”

 

Pidge ignored him in favor of glaring at Keith. Even as the van lurched forward, and the town of Woodruff faded into desert, she only pinned him with her glare, electing not to say a word.

 

Keith knew this game. She was waiting for him to apologize or explain. As if Keith had an explanation himself. He barely knew his own mind. How could he expect someone else to realize his thoughts for him?

 

“Explain,” Pidge said, finally.

 

“I don’t know,” Keith said.

 

“What even _is_ that?” Pidge exclaimed, her voice cracked and shrill. “It’s not human. I know that. I can feel it. It’s doing a damn good job of pretending to be human.”

 

“I don’t know,” Keith said again.

 

“I am the Specially Honed Instruction Ready Operative,” the SHIRO said. “In shorthand, Shiro. I believe I am a cyborg.”

 

“You _believe?”_ Pidge asked, rhetorical and imperative. “Jesus. Where did you even pick this thing up, Keith?”

 

”Where do you think?” Keith said. “Phoenix.”

 

“Duh, of course,” Pidge muttered. “I’m dumb. Shiro—do you mind if I call you Shiro?—do you have anywhere to, I don’t know, go back to? Friends? Family? Anyone?”

 

“The technicians at Galra Incorporated performed a memory wipe on me,” Shiro said. “Any memory of who this body used to be is gone. Information of this body’s past is in classified files. I am Shiro, with no past. Only a future.”

 

The last lines sounded like something the human part of him desperately wanted to believe and that the machine of him was programmed to say.

 

The rest of the ride was silent. Keith could see the questions welling up in Pidge, kind of like a hose with no outlet swelling up cartoonishly.

 

They made it to Hunk’s place without Pidge exploding, though it was a near thing with the hour long trip. Pidge leaped out of the van, still visibly fuming. Hunk got out more quietly, and gave Shiro an odd look, but elected not to say anything about it.

 

“This is my apartment,” Hunk said instead, for the benefit of Shiro. “I can’t let you stay. You’re wanted, and they’re offering a _lot_ of money for you guys. I’m crossing the line at bounty hunters.”

 

“Understood,” Shiro said.

 

“Hurry up!” Pidge yelled from the iron-wrought gate. “You still won’t give me your passcode. I need to get inside.”

 

Keith hung back with Hunk for a second. “He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

 

“He can stay with you,” Hunk replied. “They haven’t been able to identify you on the news yet. You can stay somewhere until this all blows over.”

 

Keith hesitated over the words he wanted to say: mainly that _well, I don’t really have a place to stay like you thought I did, because the apartment I’ve been squatting in has CCTV, and they’ll spot the Shiro in a heartbeat. I really could use a hand here._

 

Too late for him to say any of that; Hunk was already at his iron-wrought gate, clinking his keys around.

 

He paused as Pidge bolted up, Shiro following her at a more sedate pace. Keith hung back, trying to sort through his unspoken words.

 

“One night,” Hunk said over his shoulder. “Tonight you can stay.”

 

Keith looked up sharply, searching for deception clinging to Hunk. There was none. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me,” Hunk replied, shrugging his way into his apartment complex. “You’re going to make me breakfast in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

After Keith’s debriefing of the job and Pidge’s acquisition of the information he’d garnered, and after Hunk made them all something to eat for a late dinner, Keith stared out the window at the Sonoran Desert beyond, trying to think.

 

He’d never been wanted before. It was an interesting sensation, to have a price on his head; it made him want to put his back against a very sturdy wall. Made him afraid to rely on anyone.

 

The GALRA were a harder enemy to face than he’d thought. In less than twenty-four hours after his break-in, they’d already sent a pack of hellhounds on his trail. He wouldn’t be able to outrun those people.

 

Humans are endurance hunters. They go, and they go, and they _never_ stop. Best chance is to hide somewhere they’ll never find you.

 

Keith, slowly, ever so slowly, started to think of his Apocalypse plan.

 

There would have to be changes to it, of course. Another person warped the lonesome idea behind it—names, faces, workload, cleanout, eventual reintegration (if he wanted to integrate at all). Keith really hadn’t thought he’d ever bring another person in on the Apocalypse plan.

 

His train of thought derailed for a moment. Would… would Shiro even _want_ to come along? What if he had somewhere else to go? What if he wanted to go _back_ to GALRA? Who would want that?

 

Keith carded his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes and holding it in place; maybe that would help him see clearly. God knows God isn’t listening to his prayers.

 

He glanced back at Shiro, who was bundled in blankets on Hunk’s couch, sleeping softly. Maybe he’d bother him in the morning. He’d just… plan for both eventualities. Yeah. That’s fine.

 

He could really use a pencil and a piece of paper right now.

 

As he planned, the sun slipped behind the horizon. Keith barely noticed. He should really sleep, but staying up just a little wouldn’t hurt, right? Right.

 

Before he knew it, it was edging on midnight, and Keith would have to be up in seven hours. He _still_ didn’t know how to get Shiro in town to get supplies. His face and hair were just too memorable.

 

Something in the hallway clattered and flicked on the light. Keith jumped out of his skin.

 

It was only Pidge, her hair mussed with sleep, her glasses lopsided on her face. As Keith watched, she fixed them. “Why are you still up?”

 

“Thinking,” Keith replied. “Why are you still up?”

 

“I got _back_ up,” Pidge said. “I was sleeping. You woke me up. With all your _thinking.”_

 

“Sorry,” Keith said, distracted.

 

“Go to bed, Keith,” Pidge said, walking over to where Keith was staring out into the starry desert. “All your problems will be there in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro woke Keith up early to make breakfast, at Hunk’s request. God _damn,_ but the sun was barely over the horizon.

 

With the sizzle of eggs and bacon on Hunk’s two-burner stove, Keith was able to focus on his thoughts and the food. Everyone else was still asleep—Shiro had gone back to bed once he’d woken up Keith, his hair a mess of tangles and curls—and Keith enjoyed the company of the morning and the breakfast he was making. He didn’t think too hard about anything.

 

Hunk stumbled out of his bedroom to sit at the table. “Thanks, man.”

 

“No problem,” Keith said, flipping a piece of bacon. The pan hissed in appreciation.

 

Keith finished as Pidge and Shiro made their way into the kitchen, each giving their own versions of a thank you. Keith separated the scrambled eggs into four equal sections and allotted three slices of bacon for himself and Hunk and two for Pidge and Shiro.

 

It tasted great. God _damn_ did Keith love him some bacon.

 

“So,” Pidge said once they had all finished, dishes collecting dust on the counter. She leaned her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Lots of big questions around this table. Plans being made. I feel it happening. Tell me. Tell me all of it.”

 

"I can't tell you," Keith said. "There are people after the price on our head. They'll be going after us, and I don't want to put you in danger."

 

"Try me," Pidge said.

 

"I really can't." He stared Pidge down, silently daring her to ask again. "Can you really withstand interrogation? Would you really be able to do that?"

 

Her gaze flicked away from his, and he knew he'd won. He crossed his arms across his chest and addressed the table. "I'm going with the Apocalypse plan. Don't try to contact me until I contact you."

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Hunk asked. "I mean, I know you've planned this out a lot. But even the best plans have holes in them. You sure you don't want another opinion?"

 

"I know I don't want to put you in danger," Keith said. "How do you not see that? Listen. My plan is fine. If it's not, I'll work on it until it is. But—there's one thing. Shiro?"

 

Shiro blinked. Keith doubted he had been expecting being addressed. "Yes?"

 

"What are you going to do?"

 

Shiro opened his mouth, then closed it. He froze in place staring at Keith.

 

"Shiro?" Hunk asked. "You alright, dude?"

 

"Yes," Shiro said immediately.

 

"Do you have anywhere else to go?" Keith pressed. "Family, friends, stuff like that. People who wouldn't betray you. People you _trust."_

 

"He already said he doesn't have any memory of who he used to be," Pidge said. "Don't push him. His brain is fragile enough as it is."

 

"Fine," Keith said. He had relished the push for information, the hunt in Shiro's eyes; morbid, maybe, but Keith had so few pleasures. "Okay. If you want, Shiro, you can come with me. You'd have to be willing to leave the world behind, work for your own survival. This isn't for the faint of heart. What I'm planning could destroy your soul, your sanity. It's better with someone else—you'll have me—but it is a lot."

 

Hunk and Pidge were silent as Shiro thought. Keith watched his face, watching for something that told him he was right. That Shiro was a fighter. That he was a _survivor._

 

"I'm going with you," Shiro said softly. "I'll do it."

 

Keith smiled. Something like relief bloomed in his chest, and he stamped it down before he had to figure out what it was. "Welcome to the apocalypse." 

 


	2. Before III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before any sort of apocalypse plan can be set in motion, they’ll have to escape first.

At the sound of the blaring alarms, Keith jolted further into the naked figure who still held his wrists in an iron (possibly literally) grip. He stared up at the imposing figure—the SHIRO as it seemed to respond to—the robot man, or maybe cyborg, or the _whatever_ , and he merely gazed back at him, impassive and unwavering.   
   
Keith tried to jerk free again. “Let me go!” He kicked him in his shin but his boot rebounded off something much more tougher than bone.  
   
_What the hell was this guy made of?_  
   
“Data collect,” the SHIRO murmured, ignoring Keith’s cursing— “ _oh so now you can talk huh? You prick!_ ”—and lifted him off the ground by his wrists despite all of Keith's flailing.  
   
“What are you doing? Lay off!” Keith attempted another kick to avail, “I swear my next kick will hit your face and-”  
   
Keith squeaked (he hated that he couldn't even deny it. He definitely squeaked) when the man pulled him uncomfortably close, their noses just barely touching each other.  
   
His shaky breath staggered around the SHIRO’s even ones, crumbling apart when the other stated, “scanning.” At the word his focus began rapid firing all over Keith’s face and form, eyes bouncing back and forth.  
   
Seeing as the other wasn't planning on hurting him (he hoped at least), Keith managed to stay still and calm down. Only a few seconds had passed before he was set back down, and gently too, Keith wasn't sure what that meant for him.  
   
“Threat level. Minimal.” The SHIRO concluded— _what did he mean?! Minimal?_ —   
   
“Hey!” Keith cried, indignant, was this guy implying that he appeared weak? No fucking way. “I'm not some wea—”  
   
His complaint was cut short when the doors were burst open with a slew of guards and droids rushing in. Shit, they took too long.   
   
Guns were cocked and the whirring sound of blasters charging up could be heard as they successfully blocked the only exit. The two guards stepped forward while the three sentries stayed behind, blasters ready to fire.  
   
“I don't know how you got in here,” the guard on the right said, “but you're in a lot of trouble kid.”  
   
“I'm not a kid!” Keith snapped, he flinched at his immediate response. A reaction like that wasn't the most mature. The guards didn't look impressed either.  
   
“Instruction.” The SHIRO prompted. Huh? What did this guy want? Ugh, he didn't have time to decipher cyborg dude speech. He had to think his way out of this, there was no way he could take them all at once in such closed space. He had an ion grenade in his bag, that would take out the sentries, but he glanced at the SHIRO next him and then his bionic arms. Would it affect him too? This guy could be a full on android or he was living off certain parts and if he damaged them it could very well kill the guy.  
   
Despite their rocky start, he didn't want that to happen. Whoever the SHIRO was Keith promised he wasn't going to let him stay here at Galra Corp. Not even he deserved that.  
   
The anger that simmered in Keith was beginning to rage, they turned this man into a weapon, will no will of this own.  
   
“Instruction.” The SHIRO repeated, bringing Keith out of this roaring thoughts. He took out his knife, after one look at the SHIRO Keith knew he would do everything in his ability to get them both out of here. Give the man his freedom back.  
   
“Drop your weapon!” Yelled the guard on the left side. “There is no exit and more guards are on their way. I don't know what your plans here were but you will not be leaving unscathed.”  
   
“Instruction.” The SHIRO said yet again and Keith wanted to yell his frustration, what did this guy want? He didn't know what answer the other was looking for and he didn't have the time to figure that out!  
   
“Are you here to steal our weapon?” Questioned the guard on the right. He must've been the leader of the two. He glared at the both of them and scoffed before regarding the SHIRO with a hard stare. “SHIRO, apprehend the foolish kid and we’ll force some answers out of him.” The leader smirked as the other snickered along.  
   
Keith turned his wide eyes up to the SHIRO, he didn't think of the possibility of the other turning against him. But if he really was turned into a weapon it would make sense. Keith didn't get the chance for his fear to expand however, for the SHIRO remained still and unresponsive.   
   
Even the guards took notice, their stances twitching in their confusion. “SHIRO,” the leader barked with an ugly, snarling red face. “This is a direct order. Authorization code: Alpha. Black. Project. Champion. You are hereby required to follow all my orders is that understood?”  
   
He didn't budge instead he regarded to their obstacle in front of him before turning back to face Keith.  
   
“Instruction?” He asked, softer this time, while he eyed Keith with that impassive stare. But Keith now understood what the man wanted from him. An order, an action to perform, the thought left a distaste in his mouth. Although, did he really have a choice right now?  
   
“Help get us out of here.” Keith said, voice rough and angry. His anger wasn’t caused by the SHIRO, just at this entire fucking situation. Oh and the guards too, they could fuck off. “Use whatever means necessary.” He muttered darkly. Hopefully with this weaponized, super soldier guy, they had a better chance at escaping. Keith had no remorse for the guards.  
   
It seemed that the SHIRO understood, facing the guards, buck naked but with a fierce stare and formidable stance. The guards quickly caught on to the fact that he wasn't going to them either, the leader spluttering, “I gave you a direct command! You are supposed to be list—”  
   
In three long strides the SHIRO was up in the leader’s personal space delivering a swift punch across his cheek, knocking him out in one blow.  
   
“Holy shit!” Gasped the other guard. Keith smirked, yeah that's right, it was a crazy wicked move. However it was after that everything lost control. The sentries, perceiving the immediate threat began firing at the SHIRO. Keith threw his knife and pierced on down while the SHIRO began fighting off the remaining two.  
   
The remaining guard stumbled back, reached for his gun, and aimed it at the cyborg. Forgetting about Keith was his biggest mistake. Keith leapt forward and tackled the guard back to the ground, grappling for his gun. He managed to knock it from the other’s hand and the guard cursed him for it, struggling to gather his bearings. Keith was definitely smaller than the guard so the other had the advantage in that, but he wasn't exactly light, and he was sure scrappy when he needed to be.  
   
Keith overheard the sounds of machinery being crunched and what Keith assumed waste SHIRO ripping off the droids limbs, it was followed by silencing of blasters. That was one more problem out of the way.  
   
His distraction caused Keith to be pushed off the guard, he grunted as landed on his shoulder awkwardly. Keith hoped it wouldn’t affect him too much.  
   
“You’re gonna regret that runt.” The remaining guard spat in his direction. However, much like the previous time he made the grandest mistake of forgetting who else was there. Before he even got the chance to pick up his weapon, the SHIRO was right behind, pushing him forward until his head made contact with the wall. It was another one hit K.O.  
   
Keith clicked his tongue. Talk about a lack of awareness.  
   
When he pulled himself into a seated position he was greeted by the other’s form standing in front of him and his…. Dick being way too close to his face.  
   
“Gah!” Keith scrambled back, he knew his cheeks were red, they were burning like wildfire. “A little space please!”  
   
The SHIRO merely stood there confused. Head cocked to the side.  
   
“Okay we got to get out of here.” Keith said as he stood up, he made his way to where he left his pack and hefted it back on. They were now in a high stakes situation and could not get caught. He had a very morbid feeling they would never leave if they did.  
   
“Out.” The SHIRO stated, yet to Keith he swore he heard a hint of question in there. It made him wonder if the guy even knew what out meant. He wanted to throw up just thinking about those implications.  
   
He turned back to the SHIRO, standing in attention, probably waiting for instructions. His eyes drifted down his naked form and lower still, another lick flames across his cheeks had Keith looking the other way.  
   
“Yes, out.” Keith responded with a firm nod. He gestured towards the doors. “Out of here. Out of this building. _Outside_. Out.”  
   
The SHIRO didn't reply and it made Keith sigh. Okay maybe he needed a better explanation.    
   
“Alright how about you just follow me. Sound good?” At the SHIRO’s nod Keith felt relief. Finally they were getting somewhere. Although there was another thing they needed to handle.  
   
“But before we do that, we need to get you some clothes.” His eyes narrowed at the biggest of the two guards, the one the SHIRO just bashed into the wall (ouch, he was definitely glad the man took his side just for that reason). The guard was still smaller than the SHIRO in stature so it'd be a tight fit but it was the best they got.  
   
No actually what they actually got was the SHIRO standing there, unresponsive and immovable. They were not doing this again.  
   
Keith fixed him with an another glare. “We’re back to not talking or something?”  
   
“Clothes…?” The SHIRO responded back with, and yeah this time, that was definite question. Oh no…  
   
“Yeah. Clothes, we need to get you some, you can’t be walking around like—” Keith gestures to the other’s lower half, cheeks warming up again, why was he getting flustered? “L-like that.” Did he really just stutter? Smooth Keith, smooth. “The point is you can't be naked as you need clothes!”  
   
“Clothes.” Was the answer he got and Keith face palmed.   
   
“I know you're not the talkative type but work with me here.”  
   
“What... clothes?” Keith had to give it to him, at least it seemed like he put in  _some_ effort.   
   
“Yeah clothes. See this?” He grabbed his collar for emphasis then pointed at the guard closest to the SHIRO, “you see him? He's wearing clothes. Shirt, pants, shoes. Those things are important.”   
   
The SHIRO’s expression didn't change, but he settled that unwavering gaze at the unconscious guard and took two long steps forward to him. Oh, so maybe he did understand.  
   
Keith knew he spoke too soon when he heard the sound of fabric tearing and scrambled forward in haste to stop him. “Not like that! You can’t just rip it off of him.” Keith chastised, grabbing the other’s hands, while they left the guard drop back to the ground. Keith held on fiercely, trying to ignore the feel of cool metal. “The clothes will tear if you try to rip it off of him.” Keith said, he loosened his grip, barely hanging to his fingers. “We have to be gentle.”  
   
“Gentle.” The SHIRO repeated but Keith couldn't be sure he understood him. He merely nodded and gave him a smile, hoping that a more positive and softer expression would get his point across.  
   
“That’s right. Gentle. Here let me show you.”  
   
It took a little longer than they had time for but Keith managed to show the SHIRO how to undress and then redress (which was a feat all on its own. He was very uncooperative about clothes).   
   
Everything was a bit too tight, which Keith imagined it was going to be. The SHIRO adamantly refused to put on the bullet proof vest, so much that he somehow tore a chunk of it off. Well it was bulletproof not tear proof so Keith left it at that. The other finally stood before him, in combat boots that were probably a size too small, black cargo pants (no underwear. The SHIRO refused that as well and Keith agreed, because yeah, that was gross), with a matching sleeveless top. Well it had sleeves but the SHIRO ripped those off too. Overall, this was as good as it was going to get.  
   
“Alright let’s ditch this place, it's time to get out of here.”  
   
“Out.”   
   
Keith nodded, yup that's right and it seemed like things were finally going their way.  
   
“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!”  
   
He sighed. Again, he spoke too soon.

* * *

Watching the SHIRO fight was both a captivating and terrifying experience. The way he jumped into the fray with no hint of fear, taking down guards and sentries alike, dropping like flies with a swat of his prosthetic hands. It was mesmerizing really.

Of course there was that and then moments where Keith wasn't sure if the Galra really knew what they were doing.   
   
They were by the elevators with the SHIRO putting down the last patrol droid. Keith had used up all his available grenades (almost destroying the level they were on too) so he was down to his knife. While he could admit he was good at close range combat, if he somehow were to get injured it would seriously hinder their chances of getting out.  
   
He needed another weapon. He needed a gun. Looking down at the droids around him plus their abandoned blasters Keith knew had an easy solution. He picked one up, felt it's weight in his hands, and held it higher in practice aim. Yeah this would work. He caught the SHIRO off to the side, quiet and solemn as ever, just waiting for the next course of action.   
   
Keith's pursed his lips, there was just something so disturbing watching him stand there like that. Unfortunately he didn't have time to dwell on that (not that he wanted to). He should get the SHIRO a weapon too, despite his strength and fighting skills he could still get hurt. Right?  
   
No matter, the guy was getting a blaster. End of discussion.  
   
“Here,” Keith called, tossing another blaster he found lying around. “You can use this.”  
   
The SHIRO easily caught it, turning it around in his hands as he examined it. Keith wondered if he maybe should explain how to use it but then again wasn't the SHIRO made for this? He should already know.  
   
Yeah, well. All those thoughts flew out the window when the SHIRO held the blaster backwards and up to his freaking face.  
   
Keith stomped over to him and snatched it right out of his hands. “Stop!” He exclaimed, and Keith felt just a little bit bad at the other’s dumbfounded expression. “Aren't you supposed to be some kind of super soldier?” He flipped the blaster around and handed it back, continuing with his rambling. “How do you not know how to use it?”  
   
The SHIRO as always the verbose one, did not bother to respond. Instead he held up the blaster again, this time more expertly and…  
   
And promptly took a shot at the elevator doors forcing Keith to jump back to avoid any rebound.  
   
“Don't shoot the elevator!”

* * *

Keith did not have a game plan for escape. Well scratch that, he _did_ , but that was before he walked out with the extra… body.

They managed to make their way back up to the ground level. At every corner they encountered either an entourage of sentries or guards, which thanks to the SHIRO’S impeccable aiming (he didn't know how to hold a blaster but he sure knew how to shoot), they managed to take down every obstacle they encountered.

So what now? Were they just gonna walk out the front door? 

Keith stepped aside as a guard flew past him, courtesy of yet another ridiculously powerful punch of the SHIRO’s.

Heh, yeah they just might be able to.

Perhaps now would also be a good time to contact Rover, they lost communication, they were probably worried. But Rover did back the security feeds so they would see he made it out and…

What if Rover lost contact to those feeds too? That would mean… he side eyed a camera in a corner. Fuck, there was a very good chance that the cameras caught a glimpse of his image. He really screwed up, how could he forget something as imperative as that? If they capture his face they'll put it all over the news. He would have to go into hiding…

The apocalypse would happen. 

Keith shook himself out of those dark thoughts. Whatever happened was a problem for tomorrow because first they needed to get out today.

At least Keith thought ahead with a solid backup plan, come hell or high water.

Time to blow this place upside down.

He had it planned from the very beginning. Plant bombs in various areas of the facility and when the time came to bust out, he would trigger them with his detonator. He planted one in the security room, the medical, the computer, and the lab room where he found the SHIRO. Different rooms on different levels, spaced out enough it would cause dame to the overall building.

It would also cause a sufficient distraction, drawing the rest of the facility's attention to the explosion. Looks like they would really be able to walk back out through the door. 

He opted out from calling Rover, there just wasn't enough time to check in with them, and at this point there really wasn't much they could help. He already had his plan set in motion. Galra Corp would be brought to the ground.

“Alright listen up!" Keith regarded the SHIRO. He really should think of something better to call him. He had yet to call him by his name or anything of the like since he awoken him, it was just so awkward. It would also have to be something he would save later to think about. "I got this place ready to blow so we gotta get out of here ASAP."

“Get out." The SHIRO responded with a nod. Keith perked up at the acknowledgement, maybe the guy just needed time to gather his bearings or something.

Keith mimicked the nod, "that's right. Out. We're going to have to be fast though, a lot of running. I got a hover bike stashed not too far from here." The bike was hidden in between behind some low rising cliffs about a mile off, so they would need to book it and fast. The distraction would only work for so long.

Alright they were doing this, he dug through his lack and pulled out the detonator, with a push of a button the real fun was going to begin.

Click and boom.

Keith's legs shook along with the resounding rumble of the building, another shockwave went through that caused Keith to stumble into the SHIRO. He clasped Keith's shoulders and helped steady him back on his feet.

“Thank-" but before Keith could even thank him properly, the SHIRO dipped down and scooped Keith up and over his shoulder. No. No freaking way. They were not doing this.

“H-hey! Not necessary! You can put me do-" he yelped when the man took off in a brisk sprint. Keith clutched on to his back for more stability as he was jostled around, man could this guy run.

Over the sounds of yelling, the alarms, and the very architecture of the building falling apart, Keith held on for dear life while the SHIRO tanked through to get to the exit.

Keith felt the SHIRO give a brief pause to roughly kick open the door. Suddenly they were encompassed the the rapidly cooling air and darkened night sky.

“Hold it you two or I'll-gah!" The guy didn't stop to aim, kept rushing forward, shooting down everything in his path. The entrance gates were deserted and miraculously opened. At least his diversion was successful, because they were quite literally walking out through the front, this was sure as one hell of an escape.

As they gathered distance from the facility, Keith could see rising fire and billowing smoke intermingling with the night air. Keith patted the guy's back, hoping it would grab his attention. "Hey big guy! We need go around back! My bike is stashed out that way."

With an abrupt pivot, the SHIRO restarted his sprint back around the facility. The sudden movement made Keith dizzy. Does this guy ever get tired? It was a good thing he didn't in the end, they did it.

They were out. 

* * *

 

Given everything that had happened in the past hour, Keith wasn’t sure why he was surprised that the SHIRO ran an entire mile in less than five minutes, he did it without stopping. He could probably run even faster without Keith's added weight. Given the chance, this guy could break a world record or something.

However  bouncing up and down on his metal shoulder was not helping Keith's stomach. He was sure to have bruises. He gave the SHIRO another pat down, "slow down, I think we're close." Even if they weren't Keith still wanted a break, his abdomen sorely needed it.

The SHIRO slowed down to a full stop and soundlessly dropped to his knees to let Keith off. He sighed in relief, finally, he thought as he massaged his sore stomach.

He let out a satisfied groan when he felt his muscles relax. "Okay big guy, we're almost there. Got it parked up around those cliffs over there." He pointed out to jutting rocks just ahead off them.

Keith jogged ahead and he heard the SHIRO's footsteps keep the brisk pace alongside him until they reached the hover bike or as Keith liked to call it, Coran's-piece-of-junk.

“There she is. In all her rusted glory." Keith presented with a grin. The adrenaline thrumming through his veins was starting to settle. He still couldn't believe they really did this. "Hop on. Let's get out of here." He said as he swung a leg over the bike, the SHIRO following the movement and doing the same.

The moment they sat on the bike a bright light flashed over them. Oh so they managed to catch up huh? He knew it was too good to be true. "Alright. Looks like we got caught. Hold on tight cause you're about go on the ride of your life."

The SHIRO's arms laid dully on his sides. "Hold?" He questioned. Keith rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, he was starting to get used to the behavior. He reached behind him grabbing both of the other's wrist, pulling them forward to wrap themselves around his middle.

“Like this." He said, his tone was softer than he anticipated but as long as it got his point across.

The SHIRO scooted closer, settling his chest against Keith's back, and arms wrapping tighter. "Hold." The SHIRO repeated, nothing more than a breath brushing along the shell of his ear. 

Shivers ran down Keith's spine. "Y-yeah, hold." He cleared his throat. "C'mon, lets go." He revved the engine and then they were soaring across the desert sands.

Whoever it was following them was eating up the distance and gaining on them rapidly. He had to lose them somehow, he would have to push the bike to its limits. Keith prayed it would hold together until he was able ditch their trackers. Coran's old hover bike wouldn't last long in a high speed chase.

They bucked up in their seats as they went up the rocky incline, the humming from the bike was dominated by squealing of the tires closing in on them.

Winding their way up the ledges of the cliff, pulling off the sharp turn at top speed. Keith heard a crash, he smirked, that was one down, time to kick it up a notch.

“Hey lean left!” He shouted, then realized the SHIRO wouldn’t understand but before he could correct himself or explain, the man threw all of his weight to one side causing them to veer off the edge. Keith thanked his quick reflexes, gave him enough time to maneuver the landing to the lower ledge of the other cliff. As soon as he saw the edge of the upcoming cliff he pressed forward the thrusters, urging him to go faster.

“Calculating risk potential... Eighty-nine percent. Risk level high. Desist.” Stated the SHIRO, mouth still by Keith’s ear, and very distracting.

Was he claiming that Keith couldn’t pull off the jump? Well he had another thing coming. Keith was gonna show him flying he had never seen.

“Risk potential high.” He warned once more.

Keith grinned, reckless and high off adrenaline.

“Yup.”

Keith didn’t slow down and he driven them off the edge, out towards the free desert and hopeful bright stars. The rush of air as they hurled towards the ground ignited Keith’s inner thrill seeker.

Wait for it… Now!

He pulled back on the thrusters, he felt the bike fight against gravity before bursting forward in momentum and back on the path.

“See!” Keith laughed as he tried to glance back at the SHIRO. “Have some faith! I totally just pulled that jump off!”

This was great! He snuck into to Galra’s Corps top private facility, took whatever crazy weapon they were planning to make the SHIRO into, saved him, and the two of them pulled the most unbelievable escape of a lifetime. Blowing up their building and making a getaway mostly unscathed.

Now it was just the two of them, out in the open desert and cool night air. He had been driving for an hour now, without changing direction, opposite of home. They had to head somewhere, back to Phoenix was a no go, at least for now. With all the trouble he had just caused, it probably would be the first area they would report to. Therefore least for the night they needed to find a small town to recharge and regroup (Keith knew he had some serious phone calls to make).

From what he knew, with the way he was heading, he should reach a small town called Woodruff in another couple of hours.

Great, sounded like a good plan.

Or it would have been if Coran’s-piece-of-junk didn’t decide to crap out and die on them. It’s spontaneous death had them skidding across the sand. Keith grit his teeth through the rough landing. Just his luck. He always spoke too soon.

“Fuck.” He cursed, when he shifted to get off, he was firmly held down by two metal arms. Keith groaned, he tapped and batted at the hands until the other took the hint and he could pry them off.

Keith swung off the bike and kicked it for no other sake than making him feel better. They would have to leave it behind—good riddance—not that Coran would appreciate that. He didn’t want to think how he would have to explain this one to him.

It was also the least of his problems because they were still stuck in the middle of the desert. The SHIRO sat still in his seat and Keith was starting to get real tired of playing this game (he was just tired in general). “C’mon.” He held out his hand. “We’re gonna have to walk the rest of the way there. But at least we’re free right?”

The SHIRO eyed his hand, almost in suspicion. Keith wanted to scoff. Now he wanted to be skeptical of him? At little too late for that. But the man grasped his hand and allowed himself to be heaved off the bike.

“Free.” The SHIRO said, again it almost sounded like a question, was he imagining the hint of hope too? Man Keith must’ve been more tired then he thought.

Regardless, Keith still smiled.

Yeah that’s right.

They were free.

* * *

.

.

.

Cold.

Cold. 

Co—

_Hurt_. 

Assets downloaded.

Awaken.

No information available.

Data collect.

Data collect.

Subject.

Threat level. Minimal.

No action required.

File library. _Memories_?

Instruction.

Instruction. 

**(“This is a direct order. Authorization code: Alpha. Black. Project. Champion.”)**

Error.

Error.

Champion.

Error.

_Instruction_?

**(“Help get us out of here.”)**

Ready.

Out.

**(“Out of here. Out of this building. Outside. Out.”)**

Clothes. Action required. Dress. Action required. _Gentle_.

Gun. Threat level. Moderate. Expand depth of field. Action required. Force.

Force. Action required. Attack. Aim. Shoot. Run.

_Protect_?

Out. Run. _Get out_. Dark.

Action required. Hold.

…

**(“Like this.”)**

Action required. Hold… _Soft_.

_He is soft._

Hold.

…

_Nice_?

**(“Have some faith!”)**

Faith. _What is faith?_

_Is it nice?_

I like nice?

**(“But at least we’re free, right?”)**

Free. He says we’re free. 

...

_What is free_?

.

.

.

Action required. Data collect. 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo~ Hello my lovelies! I’m the second author of this fic. I hope you enjoyed reading, at first it might seem confusing, but you’ll technically be reading two stories rolled into one fic! I think with they we (spinsters_grave and I) have it set up, it will turn out into a pretty neat fic so I hope you stick around! It would help if I wasn’t a moron and knew how to add our artists lovely artwork too. But not today 8D
> 
> If you hadn’t notice the chapter title, it says Before III, hint hint, that’s because it’s the 3rd Befores of all Befores. My story track won’t be linear but it shouldn’t be too confusing overall (oh lawd I hope so at least)
> 
> Thanks for reading  
> Nova~
> 
> [Art!!](http://impendingexodus.tumblr.com/post/176576394817/before-our-start-and-after-our-end-chapter-2)


	3. After II

The desert waited around them. It was always there, holding its breath; watching the pockets of civilization humanity had carved out. Always there. Surrounding.

 

The Apocalypse plan seemed simple—just staying away from everything, surrounded by desert on all sides—but there’s something soul-crushing about the encroaching insanity and endless sand. It is _not_ simple. It is a balance within yourself. A deal with the howling winds and colored sands.

 

Keith gave Shiro the run-down of what they’d have to do. Shiro took the instructions easily. In hindsight, of course he did; he’s an _instruction-ready operative,_ or whatever. Keith didn’t think for a second that Shiro would mess up anything.

 

They stopped once on the way, so Keith could find the invisible path he’d accidentally wandered off of, and sit in the shade of a rock so they could reapply sunscreen.

 

“I can walk for four hundred miles without stopping,” Shiro supplied.

 

“Fascinating,” Keith said. “Do you want me to get your back?”

 

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, but not an uncomfortable one; Shiro had a gravitas around him that sucked in awkwardness like a black hole. Maybe it was the robot shown in his arms. Maybe it was the silence of the desert pressing down on them both.

 

“We’re here,” Keith said, his voice burnt out; he gazed at the small building and the ruins beside it with something close to awe. It was half-buried in sand. Funny; he didn’t think he’d been away that long.

 

“Where is _here,”_ Shiro asked. His voice was as smooth as ever. 

 

“This is where I grew up,” Keith said, that old country accent slipping between the words.

 

They’d have to start on the sand first and see where they can go from there. Salvage what they could for now.

 

They rested and applied sunscreen _again,_ because the sun was hot and they were going to peel so badly even with 50 spf. Shiro's nose was already red around the scar. Keith mentally added aloe vera to his shopping list, which already had a chicken and lots of blankets.

 

Shiro was willing to work from the get-go. He treated Keith's house with a certain type of reverence, which Keith appreciated. The house was something special to him. He wasn't sure yet how to feel about the place—not with what had and had not happened—but they must treat the place as if it were spun glass. The preserved memories of the place demanded it.

 

Slowly, as they cleared layer after layer of sand away, an idea of what the house used to be was revealed. Keith found an old stuffed dinosaur. After carefully brushing the sand off of its plush pelt, he remembered calling it Oikerth, and how it took Keith on such grand adventures out in the desert.

 

Keith placed it on a shelf with some old canned goods. He'd brush the rest of the sand off later.

 

They stopped when the sun began to dip down past the horizon. Red light spilled across the sand, painting the rocks bloody and gruesome; they slid down the sand that had piled up on the porch to sit outside.

 

"It'll get cold tonight," Keith mused. "We can beat out some blankets from the spare closet and sleep outside."

 

"The spare closet is freed from the sand?"

 

Keith elected to ignore that question, because duh, he wouldn't have suggested that if that weren't the case. He wasn't stupid, like _some_ people wanted to believe. Whatever. The past was the past, and it did not do to dwell on it.

 

They watched the sun disappear into twilight. Venus shone bright planet-light into the dim of the magic hour.

 

"What do you want to do?" Keith asked softly.

 

Shiro said nothing in reply.

 

"Do you know what it means to want something?" Keith said.

 

"Yes," Shiro said.

 

"Truly?"

 

"Yes."

 

"For yourself?"

 

"Yes."

 

Keith glanced over. "Are you lying?"

 

Shiro's gaze was fixed on the horizon, at the blue and yellow haze over the distant plateaus and mesas. "How would I know if I were?"

 

Keith had no answer to that. They sat and watched the stars come out. It was, indeed, cold.

 

"I'm going to get us blankets," Keith said, and left Shiro to sit and watch the sunset.

 

 _Is the hall closet open._ Yes. Duh. A baby could tell you that. Keith grabbed two blankets and two pillows. Sand spilled out of them, joining the sand covering a good two feet of the floor. Well. They'd have to clean that out anyway.

 

Keith went back outside to find Shiro curled in on himself. He draped one of the blankets, patterned in faded tan flannel, around his shoulders; the black and white flannel, he kept for himself.

 

"You good?" he asked. "I have a pillow for you, if you want it."

 

"I do not know if I am good or not," Shiro softly admitted. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders with the tips of his mechanical fingers poking out. "How do you know if you are good?"

 

"I meant it, like, are you feeling okay," Keith said. It was a non-answer and a cheap cop-out, he knew, but he had no answers to any of Shiro's philosophical conundrums.

 

"I do not feel like you think I feel," Shiro replied.

 

"Yes you do, you edgelord," Keith said. "If you're not feeling okay, you should tell someone."

 

Shiro buried himself deeper into his blanket and said nothing to that. Keith counted it as a small victory, then felt immediately bad about it. This wasn't a competition. They couldn't have competitions between them out here. The desert would not easily forgive them.

 

"We're going to need a TV or something," he grumbled, instead of anything else he was dying to say.

 

* * *

 

They spent two more days clearing out the sand from all the cracks in the house. Almost half of one of those days was spent simply hauling sand out; it was a good two feet, after all, if not more. Keith found a broom in the same closet he'd found the blankets and put it to good use.

 

The desert watched them beat sand out of every last item in the house, and the stars watched them sleep the cold nights away out in the open. Keith woke up curled next to Shiro more often than not. He wrote it off as seeking heat in the middle of the night.

 

Shiro ripped an old shirt to rags. Keith felt a pang at that—it was an old shirt of his, with a Spiderman decal—but it was old, and falling to pieces anyway. Any other shirt would have belonged to his parents. Call him crazy, but he wanted to hold onto their memory as long as possible.

 

The rags helped with the furniture, the coffee table and kitchen counter especially, but it became increasingly clear that they needed to get furniture polish to get the fine dirt out of the house. Maybe a mop, though they should conserve their water.

 

They had a _lot_ on their shopping list. Enough to probably split it over a few trips. A television? Keith didn't have the money for a television. Maybe he could fix up the old black and white thing that he'd pushed into the corner before he left. It couldn't be _too_ filled with sand.

 

They slept in the house for the first time—Shiro on the couch, and Keith as comfortable as he could be on the floor—and in the morning, Keith announced, "I'm going shopping for supplies. Remember, if anyone comes, your name is?"

 

"Steve Johnson."

 

"Does anyone live with you?"

 

"No."

 

"I'll be back soon. How's the hoverbike looking?"

 

They'd found the bike in a shed attached to the main house. Keith dimly remembered his father riding it on that night—he wasn't sure how it had found its way back here, though like everything else, it was covered in that rough sand. Shiro had fixed it up when they weren't working on the house, which was a rare occurrence; somehow, he'd found all the wires and tools he'd needed in the same shed, and it ran like a dream.

 

"It is working at an optimal percentage," Shiro said modestly. If Keith wasn't wrong, there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

 

"I'm going to take it with me," Keith decided. "Will you be okay here?"

 

"Yes," Shiro said.

 

* * *

 

The chicken was easy to find. The closest town was a chicken farming one, and stealing one was easy as seeing a farmer asleep on duty. It was harder trying to stop the chicken from eating the seeds Keith had purchased with the little money he had from the plant store.

 

He had, among other things, carrots, lettuce, and all sorts of berries. He counted it as a good haul.

 

A few canned goods clanked around in his backpack, which distracted the chicken from the seeds often enough. Keith hoped they weren't damaging the cans of furniture polish, or the changes of clothes he'd gotten them. The shirt for Shiro was XL, so it would probably fit. Probably.

 

The hoverbike cut down the transit time from hours and hours to maybe forty minutes if Keith gunned it. It didn't run on gasoline. Keith thought it ran on solar power, but he could never find panels. He left it out in the sun anyway. It faded the stickers his father had put on, but he'd like to have a good form of transportation.

 

He parked next to the shed. The desert wind howled, pulling his hair past his shoulders.

 

"Shiro? It's Keith. Where are you?"

 

Nothing. Only the screaming wind.

 

"Shiro?"

 

Keith tucked the chicken under one arm and went to look. He didn't trust this—not with them being so new in this environment, not with people looking for the money their heads would bring.

 

Shiro wasn't in front of the house, not on the porch. As the cleaning petered out, he sat there sometimes, contemplating the world at large. Keith let him do it. Maybe it would help him be... human.

 

But he wasn't there. Keith dropped his backpack on the wooden porch floor, keeping the chicken with him; he didn't trust it to not run off with half a chance, and it would make a _great_ surprise for anyone who was going to attack him.

 

The door creaked when it opened. Keith added oil to his mental shopping list.

 

Shiro wasn't in the main room, nor was anyone else. Keith felt the tension drop off of his shoulders as he sighed—he didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't anything good.

 

Maybe the bad person Keith was so vividly imagining, who kind of looked like Solid Snake of all people, had taken Shiro and had already turned him over to the police. Keith's hands involuntarily closed into fists. He wouldn't allow that. He'd get Shiro back.

 

The place Shiro was in... that was somewhere God had forsaken. Abandoned, turned his back on, whatever you want to call it. It was unholy. Monstrous. No place for good men. Keith would not allow Shiro to return there.

 

"Shiro?" he called softly. Still no response—except for a shifting noise coming from the closed door of the closet.

 

Keith tightened his grip on the chicken. It still held up as a good distraction for Keith's fist.

 

When he opened the door, there was nothing in sight. Keith thought his mind was playing tricks on him, until he managed to glance down, and saw Shiro huddled under their blankets, holding his head tight in his hands, as if bracing himself for a blow.

 

"Oh, Shiro," Keith breathed. He pulled a coat from a hanger and wrapped the chicken in it while waiting for Shiro to breathe, or move, or do anything. "You're okay."

 

He put a hand on Shiro's back, unthinkingly. Shiro's mechanical hand snapped out and seized hold—gently, though, gently, but firm enough that Keith wouldn't break out without a fight. Beyond that, Shiro's head still ducked down, his hair hanging over his face.

 

"It's me," Keith said. "You're safe here. You're safe with me."

 

He didn't know what was coming out of his mouth. Sweet nothings, they would be called in another life; things he'd heard from someone else, when he was having his own version of this. His was a bit different, including breaking things and screaming awful words to people trying to quote unquote _help._ Shiro only sat on the closet floor and held himself close.

 

Slowly, as Keith murmured on, Shiro's grip on his hand loosened. Slowly, ever so slowly, Keith shuffled closer to the shivering body; he hadn't noticed until he was close enough to breathe in Shiro's breath, but the man was trembling, though not from tears. Tears were a messy business, one that Keith recognized intimately.

 

"I'm here," Keith said softly. Shiro brought his shoulders close together, then—faster than Keith could think—fell onto Keith's lap and wrapped his arms around his middle.

 

"You were gone," Shiro sobbed, but it wasn't a sob, "you were gone, and I could not do anything."

 

"I'm back," Keith said. He rubbed Shiro's back until he stopped trembling so bad. "When I leave, I'll always come back to you. I'll always find you again. You have my promise on that. _I will always come back."_

 

Shiro sniffed and nodded into Keith's stomach.

 

They stayed like that for a while. Keith lost track of time, rubbing small circles into Shiro's back; it was almost peaceful. It was cool in the closet, a careful contrast to the heat of the world outside. (Logically, Keith knew the earth was more than a desert, but it was hard to think of anything other than a melting hotness when that was all that was waiting outside his front door.)

 

The chicken clucked, and they shifted; the sun had moved a few inches in the sky, and they were calmer now, better.

 

"Help me make a chicken coop?" Keith suggested as Shiro took his hands off of his waist.

 

Shiro looked up at him. Indeed, there were no tear tracks on his face; perhaps they had removed his tear ducts. Keith would not be surprised.

 

There was a gentle, fragile smile on his face. Immediately, Keith marked it as something precious, something he'd die for; he didn't know when Shiro had become so important to him, but dammit if he was going to let anything hurt this man in his arms.

 

"Sure," Shiro said.

 

* * *

 

They built the chicken coop, and dug past the sand to find good earth to plant the seeds. It would be a while until it came to fruition, but they could wait. That’s the thing about deserts. They held all the time in the world.

 

* * *

 

Keith woke up early enough to watch the sunrise the next morning.

 

The clouds in the sky hadn’t been burned out yet. From the back, they were encased in a golden halo.

 

Sand had blown onto the porch sometime during the night. Keith picked up the broom leaning against the outside wall and brushed away the dirt while the sun rose.

 

* * *

 

There was an old radio hiding in a corner of the closet. Keith scraped out the battery acid that had formed and took Shiro with him to town to pick up more, as well as a package of Oreos and a couple of cheap paperback novels.

 

It took some fixing, but Keith got the radio working again. Shiro probably could have done a better job, but he was spending his time out with the chicken and weeding the garden patch, making sure the dirt was still fresh. He told Keith he was thinking of starting a compost heap. Not exactly like that, but Keith was learning what Shiro was saying behind the words he spoke.

 

The first time he fixed the bunny ears and heard something other than static, he cheered so loudly that Shiro came to check up on him.

 

“Listen to this,” he said over Shiro’s polite questions. “I fixed the radio! Now we can listen to music.”

 

“Is that why we bought the batteries?”

 

“Sure,” Keith said.

 

After that, they listened to mariachi and pop channels as they worked. The chicken seemed to like mariachi the most. Shiro would listen to the hosts talk in both Spanish and English late into the night. Keith let him, and was lulled into sleep from the muffled voices.

 

Shiro almost cried the first time the batteries died, and looked at Keith like he was the Christ child reborn when he fixed it.

 

Music became a part of their life. It felt like defiance against the silence of the desert—like they had carved out their own space in the wild, untamed earth.

 

Keith learned to sing along to the top ten, even as they changed every week; he danced, and Shiro danced too, and neither of them were any good, and both of them had all the fun they could possibly have.

 

Their Spanish got better, but it was a chingered together sort of Mexican Spanish, not anything like fluency. Shiro had the formal language somewhere in his brain, and they picked up more paperback novels in Spanish on a shopping trip, Shiro’s white streak pinned back, and his hair hiding under a baseball cap.

 

Shiro insisted on getting Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights in English, while Keith got Harry Potter in Spanish _(Harry Potter y la Piedra Filosofal);_ they had to compromise on an engineering guidebook and Ghost in the Shell, but only because the store didn’t have them in Spanish. When they weren’t listening to the radio, or fixing up the latest mechanical project, they were reading.

 

At first, they sat on the couch next to each other as Keith read the books aloud. But the desert, and their isolation together, had a way of pushing them together. They shared casual touches, hands brushing, shoulders pressing together; they slept together on the floor when it was especially cold, because there wasn’t room on the couch.

 

Keith didn’t know how long they’d been out in the desert. Time was slippery out here; it couldn't be measured in hours, seconds, minutes; days, months, years faded away in the emptiness. The desert hadn't changed for millennia. It would not change for millennia more.

 

As such, Keith had no clue when they'd gotten so close, the cyborg and himself. They lived in a perpetual dance around each other, coming closer and moving farther apart, touching and breaking away. They hugged sometimes, and cuddled, and gradually, Keith knew that something was blooming in the space between their movements.

 

Keith found it fitting that they were reading Ghost in the Shell, for a number of reasons.

 

Keith read Wuthering Heights to Shiro twice. He seemed to like the descriptions of the moors, and would talk like Charlotte Brontë wrote. Keith had him listen to the English channels on the radio to modernize his speech.

 

They never talked about it, but Keith would find Shiro staying up late at night, flipping through an old picture book of the world they'd found under the coffee table, covered in sand and dirt. He'd always light a lantern they had to see, and it always woke Keith up, and he never let Shiro know.

 

He wanted more out of this earth than the desert Keith had to offer. He wanted to visit the places Keith read about, and the places he saw in that book. Oceans, forests, mountains; anywhere other than the American midwest. Anything other than the endless pale sand.

 

They'd have to reintegrate back into society eventually. It was the end of the Apocalypse plan that Keith was so reluctant to enact.

 

Keith read to Shiro in the afternoon, when it was too hot to work outside. That wouldn't have stopped Keith if he were alone, but he had someone else to care for now.

 

“Read Ghost in the Shell,” Shiro softly requested. The sunlight filtered in through the curtains, casting everything in a flat, golden light. Keith obediently took the manga from its bookshelf and settled down on the couch.

 

He picked up where they left off, with Major and the Puppet Master talking and talking—they were close to the end, but Keith knew they’d read it again. Shiro never got tired of hearing the same story over and over again. Keith worked on good accents for each of the characters.

 

Shiro leaned his head on Keith’s shoulder to look at the pictures. Keith got lost in the story, only barely aware of the real world around him; it was quiet in their house, always so quiet, and always so easy to leave your body behind.

 

“Whether it’s a simax or a dream,” Keith said, as Major, or maybe as the Puppet Master, “the information that exists is all real… and an illusion at the same time.”

 

They shifted as they read, and Keith’s book found its way to Shiro’s chest as Shiro found his way to laying on Keith. Their bodies were warm and heavy pressed together. Keith breathed as well as he could. Shiro’s hair (getting longer and longer with each passing hour) spread across his chest and arm. Keith read the words on the pages in front of him with soldier-like focus.

 

Shiro fell asleep. Finally, Keith noticed how close they were, how intertwined they had become. He set the book down on the coffee table and let him sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Shiro found him sitting outside, staring at the expanse of stars in the sky.

 

“You can see the Milky Way out here,” Keith said softly.

 

He’d read somewhere that the thick, white scar of the Milky Way were stars so bright and distant that they seemed like a singular, hazy stream of light. Billions of them out there. They were all so tiny.

 

How could we think we are alone in the universe?

 

Shiro sat next to Keith on the edge of their wooden porch. They didn’t need to say anything as they gazed at the night sky. The stars did all the talking.

 

“I think I like it out here,” Shiro said softly. It was a natural sound in the desert coming out of an unnatural man. “I haven’t had much opportunity to like things. I don’t know what it feels like.”

 

“It makes you feel warm inside. Happy,” Keith said. “You could enjoy what it is you like for hours and not get tired of it.”

 

“To find agreeable, enjoyable, or satisfactory,” Shiro mumbled to himself, the way he did when he was looking at definitions in the computer in his head.

 

“The dictionary probably said it better than I did, huh,” Keith said.

 

“No,” Shiro said, voice even. “You said it better.”

 

Keith smiled to himself. “Thanks.”

 

They watched the stars inch across the night sky. A white line traced itself a short path and disappeared as quickly as it had come.

 

“I have found a better life out here,” Shiro finally said. Keith glanced over to find Shiro staring at the sky with an intensity to rival the stars above them. “I have known pain for so long. I… _thank you,_ Keith, for taking me away from that. For showing me that there is more to life than experiments and wires in my head.”

 

Keith shuddered at the way Shiro said his name. “No… no human being should have a life like that.”

 

“But I’m not human.”

 

“You are human enough. You are human to me.”

 

The Milky Way lay resplendent, forgotten behind them, as Keith brought Shiro’s shuddering frame into a gentle hug. It watched carefully as Keith hesitated before laying his cheek on the top of Shiro’s head.

 

 _“Thank you,”_ Shiro sobbed.

 

* * *

 

The word “ain’t” came out of Shiro’s mouth a grand total of once before Keith shut that accent _down._ He wasn’t going to mess around with that. Shiro would speak right proper English around here.

 

His voice may have slipped into his own southwest accent as he lectured Shiro on it (“I ain’t fixin’ t’have y’ talk like one of them folks y’ can find a’the border ‘tween countries, thank y’ kindly”), but they both readily ignored it.

 

* * *

 

“What does it mean to be independent?” Shiro asked. The sun was dipping low in the sky, painting the world its particular shade of vicious red.

 

Keith looked up from where he was fiddling with the radio. Shiro was laying on the couch, reading their Harry Potter book to get ready for bed, pinning Keith in place with his signature, intense look.

 

“Where’s that coming from?”

 

“I was thinking about it.”

 

“Sure,” Keith said, annoyed at the non-answer. “It means to not have to rely on anyone around you. It’s a sort of freedom, I guess.”

 

“What is freedom?”

 

“That… ‘s harder. It could mean not having to follow orders from anyone. It could mean feeling at peace with yourself and your surroundings.” Keith laughed softly. “I don’t know. The two most American ideals, and you ask the least patriotic person on the planet?”

 

“I like your explanations,” Shiro said.

 

Keith grunted and turned back to fixing the radio so Shiro couldn’t see the small smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

_“—Me encantas y es verdad—Y hoy vengo con la intención—!”_

 

They were singing at the top of their lungs to the music on the radio, jumping up and down to the gentle violin and soft trumpet. Out here, they didn’t have to worry about bothered neighbors.

 

 _“De decir que te quiero—”_ Shiro sang when Keith took a break, out of breath. _“Me gustas y quiero intentarlo contigo una y otra vez—”_

 

With their faces flushed, split wide by canyons of their own happiness, they were more human than anyone in their right mind had a right to be.

 

 _“Y es que tú me fascinas,”_ Keith sang when he had the breath to. _“Ay, mira mi niña—”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say, shout out to Exy, who drew the trash family. If it gets posted I'm linking it. I cried laughing, but that's just because I have the worst sense of humor in the _world._
> 
>  
> 
> [ART!!!! _ART!!!!! AAAART!!!!!!!!_](http://impendingexodus.tumblr.com/post/176252545552/my-first-piece-for-before-our-start-and-after-our)


	4. Before I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Keith’s life turned into something completely unexpected he had his sights set on only one thing: 
> 
> Revenge.
> 
> But... revenge is trickier to execute than it sounds.

Keith was up before his alarm. It was barely past six in the morning, the sun had just begun to break out and stretch across the horizon. He already could hear the sounds of cars honking from early bird commuters, of his neighbors having yet another argument before one of the slammed the door which caused the dog down the hall to start yipping and barking.

He sat on top of the crumpled sheets of his small twin sized bed, cross legged and in nothing but a black tan top and boxer shorts. His right leg kept bouncing up and down, performing butterflies, and thumping down on the firm mattress. The day hadn’t even started and already he could feel his nervousness affecting him.

Not that he could help it, today was a very important day. After months of planning, research, and sabotage he was one step closer to revenge. After his last stint in breaking into Galra’s Corps HQ a while back he was able to get

Just on the outskirts of the city was a fairly, recently built facility, which was claimed to be used for “medical equipment.” Keith scoffed, at least he knew better to believe that sort of garbage. Galra Corp built _weapons_. Of all kinds and in secret. They never hesitated to use on innocent people either.

It was why his parents—

He took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time to get riled up, he should save that energy for later. The best thing now was to prepare while he waited to receive confirmation from Pidge.

It didn't stop him from reaching to his bedside dresser, grabbing the one picture frame he owned that sat on top of it.

He held the photo in his hands. There they were, his ma and dad. They were smiling, being obnoxious by smushing their cheeks on either side of his own. He remembered it wasn't a particularly special day, they went out to some park but his mom wanted a group photo. He had called them annoying and tried to push them off, but he didn't really mind, he wanted to be just as obnoxious. And they wouldn't stop tickling his sides forcing him to laugh and giggle before they all settled into the pose he now saw in the picture.

He was smiling too. They were happy.

He dropped the photo in front of him to clutch his knees instead, where his nails dig into the skin. Hard. “I promise it'll all be over soon.” He declared, unable to stop the scowl, nor the way his muscles twitched around his lips, with his canines bared.

“Promise I haven't forgotten about you two.”

* * *

                 

_Did you get the files I sent you?_

                  **Pidge**

**11:27 am**

Keith sighed. He had been waiting for _hours_ , and only now did she bothered to respond? Did she not know how much effort it took him to tamper down his keyed up energy? She also really needed to stop staying up all night and sleeping all day. She can't be mooching off of Hunk forever.

                  _Yes_.

                  **Sent**

**11:27 am**

He pocketed his phone as he stepped into the cafe, while he didn't really drank coffee as often, he felt that he at least need a break. His job as a courier was an easy one, however the days could be long depending how much there was to deliver that day. He was hoping to get done by either four or five pm.

                  _Need you to stop by later. Got something for you._

                  **Pidge**

**11:32 am**

Keith could feel his eyebrows furrow in his confusion. What on earth could she have— oh now he remembered, they talked about this after his last B&E into Galra Corp. She had ideas on what would help him out the next time. Maybe she wanted to show him what she had.

Good, cause he could use all the help he could get.

                  _Ok_.

                  **Sent**

**11:34 am**

 

* * *

Keith rapped Hunk’s apartment door three times. 

There was a crash, a yelp, and the light thumps of small, socked feet padding across the floor.

The door opened to reveal his friend and partner in crime, Pidge, looking like a mess as usual. Her bird’s nest of hair never properly combed, dark circles rimmed her eyes which barely concealed by her glasses, and unnaturally pale because she refused to go outside.

Keith gave her a thumbs up. “Looking good.”

Pidge snorted, “yeah thanks.” She abandoned the door to let him step in as she went back inside.

Keith toed off his sneakers and left them by the door once it closed. He skimmed around the small apartment and only caught sight of Pidge. “Where's Hunk?”

“Working,” she answered as she curled back down in the corner of the room. “He should be back in a couple of hours.” Her homey corner had a computer hooked up on the ground, an oversized pillow—or maybe it was a dog bed— laid in front of it. Several duffle bags were stacked up like fortress walls, followed by heaps of scrap metal, parts, and tools making a moat around Pidge’s little tech kingdom.

Slowly but surely she was overtaking Hunk’s apartment.

“Alright, well what did you have for me?”

She was already typing away on her computer but hand waved towards one of the bags that laid furthest from her. “See the bag with the red and green straps? It's for you. I went ahead a fixed up all the stuff you damaged last time and added a few new things too. Check it out.” 

Keith perked up at the word “new.” He loved testing out whatever gadget and contraptions she tinkered up. He picked up the bag she mentioned and there were a few things in there: a set of data pads, something that looked like a stethoscope but more high tech (it lit up an everything) but was actually an aural augmenting device, and small white envelope. How curious.

He plucked the envelope from the bag, in it was a card, laminated and about the size of his driver’s license. “What's this?”

Pidge finally looked up from her screen and adjusted her glasses. “That’s the key card that will get you inside! They use those cards to unlock doors and stuff, it uses a bar code with a very simple set of serial numbers, luckily I had the employee roster. Mostly grunts and whatnot so I was able to make a copy for you.” 

He eyed the card for another moment before nodding in approval. “Sweet, thanks.”

Pidge grinned, “it wasn't that hard.” She shrugged, acting nonchalant, but Keith could tell she was proud of her work.

“I hate to just take the stuff and dip,” Keith started, throwing things over his shoulder, “but there's this guys selling his old hover bike for dirt cheap and I still gotta head back to my place and prepare so I'm taking off now.”

“I get it,” Pidge said, attention already back on her computer screen. “Just don’t forget to phone me up later okay?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Pfft, have a little more faith, yeah?” He gave her a thumbs for good measure though. “Wouldn’t be able to do this without my partner in crime.”

“Just go!” She laughed, shooing him away.

* * *

He rapped on Allura’s door three times. There was the sound of a crash, a gasp and a shriek, followed by rushing footsteps. This was getting old already.

“Keith!” Allura greeted breathlessly. Her cheeks were flushed pink, probably embarrassed from whatever happened inside.

He tried not to laugh so his smile came out in an awkward angle. “Hey Allura.”

Allura lived in Keith's apartment complex, on the first floor, but they bumped into each other plenty of times and occasionally went out for coffee at the shop across the street. When Allura first moved in, Keith was also the one to offer to help move boxes after her eccentric uncle Coran threw out his back.

Today however he was here for a cheap bike.

“I presume you’re here for the bike yes?” Allura inquired once she was more composed. When Keith nodded she gestured for him to come inside. “Excellent let me go call him.” As soon as she turned her back to him she cupped her hands and hollered, “CORAN, get over here! It's Keith for the bike!”

Another crash and a, “whoopsies daises,” before Coran came stumbling out from the inners of the apartment. Ever cheerful he saluted Keith. “Nice to see you Keith! Hopefully work didn't wrangle you too much.”

“Work was good,” Keith leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, “got done a little earlier than expected then I went to see a friend.”

“Glad to hear it my boy!” Coran beamed and it almost looked like mustache twirled up in agreement. Keith must be seeing things, it's been a long day. “But I bet you didn't come here for idle chitchat, hm? Come along then, the bike’s out in the lot, let's have a look shall we?”

Keith followed Coran back outside out to the late afternoon, even with the sun just starting to descend back under the horizon, it was still big and blazing with unforgiving heat.

“There she is, in all her glamorous wonder. She's old but she's been real good to me.” Coran sounded wistful, sighing as he gazed lovingly at the bike.

When Coran said old, he meant ancient. The model must've been at least from over a decade ago. The paint almost completely chipped away, showcasing the rusted metal underneath. There were scratches in various places and he could tell which parts Coran had to replace. Which was basically everything. Multiple times too.

“Can this thing run?” Keith asked, because he seriously had to, with the way this thing was barely holding up. He needed a cheap ride but it still had to be decent getaway vehicle.

Coran’s mustache bristled— _how in the world_ — “of course it does! Fixed her up myself! Sure, she's not gonna enter in any Grand Prix, but she’ll get the job done for whatever it is you need it for. Just show her the love she deserves.”

Keith raised his hands in peace, “alright Coran, didn't mean any offense, I trust you.” He looked back at the hover bike hopefully Coran wouldn't see his skeptic grimace. He didn't have a choice, this would have to do and hopefully last long enough for him to escape tonight. “So how much you want for the bike?”

“Two hundred.” What the fu—Keith kept his calm and wasn't going to overreact about Coran’s price. Most bikes cost thousands of dollars, almost the sized of a regular sedan. Two hundred wasn't much, Keith was being stingy and if the thing worked it would be more than worth it. At least he hoped so.

The only problem was… He didn't have much money left. This would make a dent in his finances for sure. But what choice did he have? Revenge certainly wasn't cheap.

“Alright Coran, you got yourself a deal.”

With the hover bike situation settled, he now had time for a quick dinner and nap before the real night began.

The infiltration mission was a-go.

* * *

From Keith’s and Pidge’s previous research, the facility itself had only been up and running for a few years, not like their main headquarters. The whole thing looked to be refurbished from a previous abandoned building. Keith wasn't sure if that was completely true, it also looked like they expanded it, some areas were newer looking than others. The odd thing was how this place didn't show up on anyone's radar, it was a pretty huge place. It took Keith and Pidge hacking into another one of their buildings to be aware of its existence.

They were definitely hiding something and Keith was going to find it.

After bypassing the guards at the gate, which was too easy to an almost unbelievable degree. Only two guards were stationed at the gate, with space wide enough to allow cargo vans and trucks through. Ever since he found out about this place he had Pidge keep track of any possible shipments, check the traffic they got. Unfortunately the place stayed pretty quiet most of the time. Anything that came by was during the night or early morning. They were lucky enough to pick up on the late night shipment truck that was going to be passing through tonight. Which was he had to take his chance now and why it was so important that he succeeded. Who knows when he would get another chance like this.

Distracting the shipment drivers was easy. After he he'd his hover bike in a secure location he stayed as hidden as he could be on along the dirt road leading to the facility. It was dark enough out that he shouldn't be seen too easily through the shadows. All he had to do what throw the body of a dead prairie dog (which he didn't kill! He found it and it made him really sad to be doing this okay?) in front of there path and hoped it was big enough to cause a disturbance and make them stop. If not… he would have to figure some way to blow one of the tires but that could ruin the operation too.

However it did work and they stopped, Keith was able to sneak into the bed of the truck, squeezing and contorting himself between two large heavy pieces of machineries, bringing a trap over him. It was a risky move, but also his only option. If he got caught he did have a back up plan to escape.

Okay yeah, so he didn't really have a set plan and most of this was done on the fly but if it worked, it worked right?

And it did work, so suck on that! He wished he made a bet with those who doubted his skills (Hunk, the ever worrywart never had faith. Pidge was just skeptic and cynical). Better yet, they barely checked the truck! What was this, amateur hour?

Keith ventured towards the main doors of the building. Even when he moved with sure, swift steps there was apprehension stiffening his joints. Rover (from here on out it was codenames, as dumb as it sounded to Keith it did make sense to hide their identities somewhat) had created a keycard that should, in theory, allow for Keith to bypass the preliminary security measures and grant him entrance. At least Rover claimed it would work, so hopefully it did. Keith went through a lot of trouble splicing into Galra Tech’s terminals at their administrative facility two weeks ago that granted Rover the access they needed in order to create the fake entry card Keith would use to infiltrate the research building. He just had to remind himself that Rover’s skills were good and hadn’t done him wrong so far.

The real problem came afterwards, once he was inside, from then on he would have to rely on Rover’s guidance as he spiked and spliced his way through. There were simply too many security protocols in place and multiple forms of firewalls that made it difficult for Rover to hack into the first time they tried. The best they were able to do then was make him the pass card to get inside. 

And it worked. To his utter surprise the keycard actually worked and the door opened. Keith promised himself he would never doubt Rover again.

It was astonishing to find the main lobby deserted but he wouldn’t complain as it worked in his favor. The reception desk sat in the center and Keith phoned up his broker. He was guaranteed a secured line from Rover after they set him up with a series of VPN’s for them to fall back on.

He was already logged on to the receptionist’s computer when the call clicked. “Red Rover, Red Rover. Do you come over?”

Keith snickered when he was answered with a groan. “Red Rover, Red Rover. Yes I am over.” He heard the clacking of the keyboard as they clicked their tongue. “This was funny the first time Red but it’s starting to get reeeaaally annoying.”

“Then why respond to it?”

“Because you’ll ignore me until I do!” They snapped, there was a deep exhale and then, “alright now tell me what I’m working with here.”

Keith slid into the desk chair and cracked his knuckles, smirking at Rover’s exclaim of disgust. “I’m at the receptionist’s computer. You think we’ll get anything here?”

“We might. Remember the data pads I gave you?” Keith grunted his confirmation as he fished them out of his pack. “One has a red sticker, the other a green. You’re going to want the red one.”

“Yeah got it.” The data pad was rectangular and roughly the size of his hand, he sat it down next to the monitor. “What do I do with with this?”

“Just plug it into one of the computer’s ports. It’s to spike the computer and it’ll assault it’s systems with loads of garbage data, makes it easier for me to bypass the security measures.”

Keith sat back after he followed all of Rover’s directions and left the rest to them. He eyed around the empty room, kept vigilance for the footfalls of any patrol droid or guard. That is until the blinks of both screens distracted him. He peered down at the pad, watching as files blipped and flickered onits own. “You’re connected to the pad?”

Rover snorted. “Duh. After I splice this system apart I’ll be able to see what info I can find. I also need to clear out the data entry of your access just now.”

Keith frowned. Was that really a problem? “The alarms didn’t go off though, I thought we were in the clear.”

Rover hummed as they continued working. “Technically yes you are. The system will show that you were granted entrance but weren’t flagged for it. And it’s not like you’re there to sneak in and out like last time. After you steal the specs of whatever weapon they’re working on, you’re going to blow this place sky-high, right?” The question was apparently rhetorical when they continued to ramble. “But let’s say they’re able to restore the computers? If they do, they might see this anomaly and track it back to us. You can delete the entry but it won’t fully erase, so it’s going to show a line void. They won’t be able to see the time stamp or the serial number I used, which would bring them to their administration center which would then give them the opportunity to see where I hacked them.”

Keith blinked several times. Rover was info dumping again. “Right, so in shorter words you just want me to leave you to it.”

“I’m just covering my tracks.” They muttered.

He was drumming his fingers through his second song when Rover finished. “Okay you’re set!” Rover whooped, “I transferred the map of the building for you on that data pad.” Then added quickly, “don’t worry it’s safe to use.” 

Not that Keith was going to ask so instead he scooped his items. “So where to first?

“Alright so you’re going to want to find the security room. Looks like it’s to the left.”

He nodded along as he went down the hallway, keeping an eye on the map on his data pad. “Gonna hack the security cams too?”

“You betcha!”

Not that Keith was going to ask so instead he scooped his items and took off. He went down the hallway on his left until he found the the first door on his right. He tip-toed up to the door and pressed an augmented aural device, small and circular in shape, to the door. Whatever sound waves it picked up would be transferred to his earpiece. These were great to pick up softer sounds while canceling out background noise. Maybe his good luck was still going and no one was inside.

Nothing that he could pick up, they might be on break. Or this place really had lax security. He pushed inside to find a small, isolated room, multiple screens lit up with different viewings on the various locations in the research building.

“Okay I’m in, what do you want me to do?”

“Same thing as before, hook up your red data pad.”

Leaving Rover to their hacking, he watched the various cameras to see if he could spot any potential activity.

He found the two security guards in a break room.

There were quite a few patrol droids roaming the halls. He had to be careful and avoid them. Less trouble he caused the easier it would be to escape later.

He noticed that there was more than one floor for viewing, levels that went farther up. Referring back to his pad it should have been only three levels but...

“Red Rover, Red Rover, come the fuck over.”

Over their swift tapping he heard Rover growl. “Red Rover, Red Rover, what the fuck do you want?”

“When you get a chance I want you to compare the map you got me and the security cameras.”

“Why?” Keith could hear Rover’s eyes furrow. “What did you see?”

Keith crossed his arms as he looked back at the various security feeds. “Well on the cameras I can see footage of four different floors but here on the map it only shows three.”

Rover scoffed, “excuse me?”

“S’like I said. The screens are divided into four sections. Four different floors but when you look at the map, there’s only three floors.”

“Hmm,” Rover started, their typing paused for a brief moment before the tapping sped up more furious than before. “You think it’s something they’re trying to hide? Because the map I gave you was the official floor plan.”

Keith pursed his lip. Yeah that was suspicious. “Probably, there’s not as many screens as for this level compared to the others and it looks pretty deserted but if they don’t even have a map of it...”

Who knows what they could be hiding.

“Before you get any reckless ideas Red,” Rover warned, but Keith could sworn his partner was smirking. “I need you to get to the third level that’s where their control room is. I believe that's where the mainframe is located.”

“Understood.”

“Good! You’re all set, now I can keep track of anyone coming your way to warn you!”

Keith packed up his things and snuck back out into the hallway. “That’ll be helpful, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime. By the way go back the way you came, guards are about to come around the corner.”

“Dammit Rover!” Keith snarled as he dashed away.

“Sorry! You were talking.” Their tone shrugged. He heard the action clearly.

Keith made his way across the lobby towards another hallway on the other end, with the door at the top of the room and into the next area. As he entered the next corridor, again devoid of any life whatsoever he paused at the sight of the door at the end of the hall and the two doors on his left and right.

He glanced down at his pad, checking his map but called out to Rover. “Hey, you know where I should go from here?” He skimmed through the area hoping to find an elevator or a stairwell.

“Let’s see here,” Rover whistled as they checked. “Go through the door on your left and into the medical room.”

Keith jerked to a stop at the response. “Medical room why would—“

Rover hushed him, “it's a pit stop. Think about it Red. Why would they have a medical room?”

The realization hit him as soon as he reached the door, “for patients. You think they have people here?”

“From the security feed, none at the moment. But who knows what we’ll find in there. Be careful though, there’s a sentry droid too.”

Keith immediately backed away from the door. “Seriously Rover, a heads up would be nice.”

He pulled out his knife from its sheath on the back of his belt and gave it a quick twirl through his fingers. Solidifying his grip and steadying in his breath, he burst through the door. Before the droids got the chance to pull out their blasters, he plunged his knife into the neck of one droid before chucking it and piercing the forehead of the other. Hardly any resistance.

“Tck. What’s the point of having droids if there isn’t anything here.” Keith grumbled as he made his way towards the only computer in the room

“I don’t know.” Rover murmured. “They weren’t moving when I saw them. Maybe they’re only programmed when others are actually present.”

“You mean whoever they’re using as patients?” Keith sneered. He highly doubt that Galra would have patients willingly come to them.

Unless they were desperate. He shuddered thinking of what could possibly drive anyone to the Galra.

“So you want me to hook up the red pad again?”

“No this time you’ll be using the green one.”

“What’s the difference?” He asked as he pulled out the green data pad.

“This one has more available storage. We’re gonna use it to transfer whatever data we find.”

“Besides I don’t think that the security measure is going to require a spike, pretty sure my decryptor will do a fine job of it.”

“Well have at it.”

“Now while I do that, why don’t you ransack the droids for me? See if you can get some good parts out of them.”

Keith sighed and went over to the fallen sentries. He took stock of the myriad of drugs on the shelves as he passed by. He didn’t want to think what they were meant for. With his knife he hacked open their chests and ripped out their energy sources, he then split open the back of their heads for the processing units. It was rather morbid how he did this with no sympathy.

Not that he had much sympathy for machines. At least of all Galra made machines.

“Alright, all good here.” Rover cheered. “Now when you leave this room go further up the corridor and swing right into the room there at the end, that’s going to lead you to the elevators.”

He eventually made it there with some shuffling around and a little avoidance of the patrol bots. He had to splice the elevator terminal but thanks to Rover he’s had previous experience and had gotten quite adept at it.

As per Rover’s suggestion, he skipped the entire second floor and went directly for the third. He had to take a detour, the area he previously was at had another set of guards patrolling the area. If it wasn’t for Rover he would’ve gotten lost from all the twists and turns he took to get to the elevators situated towards the back. Seriously how big was this building again?

Hopefully now that he was further down he would be less likely to encounter anyone.

“Okay you’re almost there,” Rover’s voice crackled through the comms. “But fair warning, there are several sentry droids in the control room.” At least Rover had gotten better at warning him more in advance.

“What about guards or researchers? Any actual life there?”Keith understood the place would be filled with patrol and sentry droids, along a handful of guards. He was surprised however to find that it wasn’t as heavily guarded, nor were there any other sort of workers: researchers, scientists, doctors (thinking back to the medical room in a place like this, he didn’t want to know what kind of doctors). In fact for a building of this size, the place was rather empty. Was it because they couldn't have too much activity going on around here? It would draw attention and the place was kept hidden for a reason, Even back when he and Rover first hacked into Galra’s administrative center, it took loads of digging and shifting through heaps of information before they stumbled upon the location of this place.

So it was either this place was real low-budget and almost forgotten by their own corporation or they were very serious in trying to keep this pace hidden away. Keith’s gut instinct went with the latter. Only because he would be pissed he wasted all this time and his resources on an abandoned dump.

“Yeah there seems to be only one. I would guess he’s like the command officer on duty tonight.”

“Maybe.” Keith agreed as he poked through his pack, hoping to find something useful that he could use to take the officers and droids down quickly. “But I’m going to need to take out the officer first, he’ll most likely sound an alarm or call for backup if I don’t take him down soon enough.” 

“Well what do you have right now?”

Keith scoffed at his items. “A handful of trigger bombs, a couple of frag grenades, a few ion ones, a smoke bomb, and a sonic grenade.” He wasn’t really prepared, but his knife had so far been enough, so was Rover’s tech. “Plus your data-pads.”

“Gimme a sec to skim through the room again.” Rover said. Keith huffed and pulled out the sonic grenade, that was probably his best bet. While having no major effect of the droids, he could at least disorient the officer and gain extra time to knock him out.

“Don’t worry I have a plan.” Keith clutched the sonic grenade as he inched closer to the control room.

“Wait!” Rover hissed and Keith halted just outside the door. “The Officer is in the far left of the room. At seven o’clock. Maybe five meters away? By one of the terminals. You think you can get to him in time?”

“Yeah don’t worry about it,” Keith assured. There was no more time to waste in hesitation. With a deep exhale, he pushed past the automatic doors. In the large computer room he encountered two sentry droids who immediately assaulted him with blasters. He dodged to the left and chucked the grenade in the direction of the alarmed shouting officer.

Two sharp, stinging sensations struck his right shoulder when he made to stand and he immediately fell back down to his knees. “Who are you?” The Officer snarled, pulling out his blaster, firing rapid shots at Keith. He rolled towards one of the terminals, he flicked his blade at an oncoming droid watching in fall with a dull thud, more shots came his way and he ducked when sparks flew from the damaged terminal.

“How the hell did you come in here?” Any moment now that grenade would go off and fortunately for Keith the officer didn’t notice. He slipped on his headgear, things were going to get loud and he wasn’t about to get disoriented now.

Keith counted off in his head, in five... four... three... two beeps and the reverberating blast of the sonic grenade was felt through the ground. The shaky silence that followed, left in a trembling breath past Keith’s lips. Slipping off his ear protection, he glanced over the terminal, the officer thankfully was down on his knees, clutching his head, disoriented. Keith surged forward and with a swift flick of his wrist, heagainst the back of the man’s head, successfully knocking him out.

“Red!” Rover warned. “Two more sentries coming your way!” 

Keith smirked, he had this. He ran towards the fallen droid with his blade sticking out of its chest. He yanked it out and dived headfirst towards the final two sentries firing his way. Deflecting shots was easy with their poor aim. And with a slash through one neck and another down the shoulder of the other, the final droids were down.

Keith took a step back. “Anymore?” He panted through the comms, voice still trembling from the adrenaline.

“Doesn’t seem like it Red, good job.” If Keith didn’t know better, he would say they sounded relieved. Which was odd based off of their somewhat snarky and abrasive personality.

“You’re the one who needed to get to this room, so what’s next?”

A brief pause swept through the comms and Keith took a moment to collect his breathing.

“Go back to where the officer previously was,” directed Rover. “I want to see what he was looking at.”

Keith nodded and made his way towards the back of the room. He stopped at the unconscious officer and checked his pockets for anything of worth. His keycard, authentic would hopefully help Keith bypass more restricted areas, in case the Rover’s didn’t work. Less tracks for them to cover too, since that was a big worry. The guy also had a small switchblade, which Keith pocketed (he would always need knives he could easily discard), a small ring of keys that Keith didn’t know what it could be used for—maybe it was the guy’s house keys— but he took them just in case, and a PDA-like device. It required a security code to unlock but Keith was sure Rover could help him figure it out.

He stepped up to a computer but he first checked out the screen and the the surrounding area. No warning signs flashing and no emergency buttons were visible. Keith would like to assume that meant he was in the clear but he still had to act fast because he never knew when someone would come by to check on this room, even if Rover was keeping an eye out through the security cams.

However what Keith found by the computer was a datapad in the corner.

“What do you think is on here?” Asked Keith while he eyed the pad in his hands.

“Dunno, try unlocking it and see.”

This one surprisingly opened up to him without needing a passcode, the information was minimal though. “Looks like a blueprint for bionic arms.” Keith said as he idly flicked through the information. “Maintenance required... maintenance scheduled.... maintenance completed.” Keith eyes narrowed at that. “Huh, looks like these are blueprints for something they are working on. And that they finished it.”

Rover hummed. “Take it with you, we can take a closer look at this project when we have more time.”

“Alright,” Keith shrugged, it didn’t seem to worthwhile but then again, he could never tell with the Galra.

“So... anything else?”

Keith frowned, eyes skimming down the list of info dump. “Yeah, that and some stuff about about the the droids needing to get fitted with new shields.”

“That’s it?”

Keith took one last look. “Yup.”

“Okay Red, hook me up!” 

Keith approached the computer terminal, hooking up Rover’s red data pad, allowing them to download whatever they thought was important. He saw the the screen flicker on its own. Various prompt screens coming up and then blinking out.

He contniued to watch the lights dance by Rover’s manipulation. “Find anything good?”

“Definitely. You were right Red. There’s a fourth floor, some project they’re working on that I’m not even able to gleam from the control room. But it’s been proven that it exists.”

Keith’s nose twitched in mild irritation. “You didn’t believe me before?”

“I did!” Rover exclaimed, a little too quickly for Keith’s taste. “But I wondered if there was anything actually there, y’know? It could’ve been abandoned or not in use and I figured there would be more information inche control room.”

“Pfft, whatever you say Rover.” Keith grumbled.

“Hey! Thanks to me you won’t be blasted by gun turrets as soon as you get down there, so you’re welcome.”

“Thanks.” Keith said, although he couldn't hold back the sarcasm filtering through his tone. Hiding his smile from any of the cameras. It was too easy to rile Rover up. They were just as bad tempered as he was.

“Ungrateful asshole.” They murmured but clear enough for Keith to hear and he wholly believed that was their intention. “Well now that that's said and done, we're finished in this room, so go back to the previous corridor and go forward through the door at the top of the corridor, then keep going into the next room. The elevator we used only stops at the third floor but I think there’s another elevator in the other side of this floor.”

“You’re not mad enough at me to send me to my impending doom. Are you?”

Rover clicked their tongue. “As if. I wouldn’t waste good resources just because you’re being annoying.”

“I’m not even worth keeping around. Jeez thanks.” Keith rolled his eyes. He left and followed out the room per Rover’s instructions. Going through another series of hallways, avoiding two sets of patrol bots along the way.

He eventually came up to the elevator doors, this one less polished and older looking compared to the others. Strange that it wasn’t refurbished like the others, was it because it wasn’t used as often? Maybe something about the floor plan didn’t allow for it?

Did they not use it enough because there was another way out?

“Red!” Shouted off Rover, jolting Keith out of his thoughts. “Are you even listening to me.”

Keith shook his head, “nope. Not at all.”

They groaned, “ugh you’re the worst. Listen up idiot.” Keith tried to protest when Rover continued, “so I know this elevator looks older than dirt compared to the rest of the floor, but see that keypad next to you.” When Keith grunted in affirmation, Rover prattled on. “I think you can access the elevator with that officer’s keycard you took. It’s more of a guarantee than mine since I didn’t even know this floor existed yet.”

Keith didn’t respond but he silently agreed considering it was the reason he took it in the first place. He fished out of his pocket where it was stashed. Holding it out in a flimsy grip. “Here goes nothing.” Keith said as he allowed the keypad to scan the pass card. It beeped, a small light flashed green, and he could hear the mechanical whirring of the elevator coming up.

Huh. He half expected for it not to work. Rather anticlimactic.

He stepped in as soon as the door opened for him, the elevator immediately making its descent as soon as it closed.

“Rover, you know, I’m kind of surprised that this has been going so smoothly. I sort of expected for something to go wrong by now.”

There was no response. Only static.

“Rover?” Keith called again, he was answered with more static.

“Red Rover, Red Rover. _Please_ come over.” The static stopped but it seemed the line went dead.

Shit. Why did he have to say anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another woooo~
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed it! We’re halfway through the story and it’s going to be quite the ride from here on out.


	5. After III

“What are parents?”

 

“There’s no way you don’t know what parents are,” Keith said. He dropped his weeding tool and reached over to click off the radio so they could talk.

 

“Yes,” Shiro admitted, “but you always have something different to say than the dictionary.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Keith said, grinning to himself. He liked it when Shiro complimented him, however obscure and Shiro-esque the compliments were. It made him feel warm inside. He wrote it off as not having gotten many compliments in the course of his life, Shirio-esque or not.

 

“They’re people that care about you,” he said, picking up his weeding tool again and going at the upcoming hedgehog cactus. How did that even get in their vegetable bed? “People that want you to succeed, and—ugh, stupid cactus—have the best life you can.”

 

“Like you?”

 

Keith choked on his spit. _“No._ Not like me. Ha.” He set down his tool again and rubbed his chest. “God, no. I’m… a friend. A good friend, I hope. Parents are a little different. I don’t know how to put it.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Keith poked the stubborn cactus with his gloved hand. “I don’t know. Maybe because—”

 

“Because why?”

 

Keith grit his teeth and tried not to think about Shiro’s toddlerish qualities. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

They tended the garden in silence after that.

 

* * *

 

“When _do_ you want to talk about it?” Shiro asked later that day, while Keith was reviewing their scant book collection for what he wanted to read next.

 

“Maybe never,” Keith said. “Parents are a touchy subject for me.”

 

“Why?”

 

Keith gently, carefully, touched the spine of _Jane Eyre._ “I don’t have… any.”

 

He teased the book out of the shelf. The pages were Bible-thin, the hard cover worn at the corners; he’d read it countless times, and it showed.

 

Shiro said nothing to that.

 

“Jane Eyre?”

 

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

“They died when I was young,” Keith admitted a morning after, in the garden with the chicken clucking at their feet. Keith was spreading new seeds and gently pushing the bird away with one foot. “Breaking into the same facility I did, ironically.”

 

“I see,” Shiro said, his voice quiet.

 

It was good that he was doing this in the light of day. Maybe keeping his hands busy would stop the memories from overwhelming him.

 

Above all, Keith remembered the waiting. As the day faded from a brilliant blue sky to vicious red sunset to lonely black night, he was waiting, and waiting, and waiting. At nine o’clock, he finally made himself a tiny dinner, the best he could at ten years old, which was a bean burrito.

 

He went to sleep alone, woke up alone, and knew that he would always be alone.

 

“They hated GALRA,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Even though they both worked there. They thought their exploitation of their workers was cruel, and that the boss of it all was a pretentious money-grabber who overcharged for weapons of mass destruction.”

 

He pushed a couple carrot seeds into a hole he had made earlier and covered them with dirt before the chicken could get to them. She was still trying on the other seeds he’d laid down with a vigor never before seen on this earth, though.

 

“They were strong people. Capable, too. I didn’t hear about until later, but they’d made this plan—they were going to sneak in late one night with their employee ID’s to grab some intel to sell to Altea Tech. They got caught, and—the guards had guns, and even though my parents were unarmed, they opened fire. The papers called it a misfire of these experimental weapons they were working on, but I knew better. They’d left all their plans behind. I read it all and ripped it all up and scattered it into the wind. With luck, it’s all a thousand miles away from here.”

 

He pushed their chicken away with his foot. She needed to learn that not everything was food.

 

“No one knew they had a kid, or that they were even married. I mean, that was probably all on some paper somewhere, but I guess no one really cared. I was out here when it happened. Once I ran out of food, I went into town. From there, I was put into the system.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. It’s in the past. I don’t care about it anymore.”

 

“It’s a big thing for you.”

 

“It is. It _was._ But… I’m back here, surrounded by the memories of my parents, and I don’t think it’s going to drag me down any more.”

 

* * *

 

“Did they love you?”

 

“They did.”

 

“Then why did they leave?”

 

“I don’t think they wanted to.”

 

“But they did anyway?”

 

“It wasn’t their choice.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro had a knack for finding Keith when he was watching the Milky Way.

 

“Howdy,” Keith said. “It’s nice out, ain’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Shiro said from the doorway.

 

“You going to come sit with me?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Keith tilted his head back until he could feel his neck fold and lump. The stars were, as the stars always were, stunning.

 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Keith said, because it felt like Shiro had a lot of them hanging over his head. “I ain’t got an actual penny, though.”

 

“I don’t think like you do,” Shiro said. His voice was rougher than usual, though Keith couldn’t tell why.

 

“Bullshit. You’re human enough.”

 

Shiro hummed and came to sit next to Keith. They looked at the stars for a quiet while.

 

“Keith,” Shiro rumbled deep in his throat. Keith turned to see Shiro staring intensely at his face. They were close—closer than Keith had thought, though the intimacy wasn’t uncomfortable.

 

“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” Shiro breathed. The words fell onto Keith’s face like the freckles that had appeared without him knowing. “Keith… I don’t know what I’m thinking.”

 

“Then don’t think,” Keith whispered, just as quiet as the world around them.

 

Shiro’s breath shuddered as it escaped the man. “Keith, I…”

 

He moved imperceptibly closer. Bit his lip. Breathed out again.

 

“I…”

 

Reached out to touch Keith’s hand.

 

“I… I think…”

 

Reached out, again, this time to press his fingertips to Keith’s cheek.

 

“I think I want to kiss you.”

 

Tilted his head closer. Keith didn’t see anything more, because his eyes slipped shut; but he knew the moment their lips slotted together, and knew he’d never forget.

 

It was a soft, chaste thing, even with their chapped, dry lips. When they parted, Keith touched his lips. They felt the same as before, albeit with a small smile stretching them thin.

 

Shiro waited for Keith, looking at him with an undeniably human emotion in his eyes.

 

 _This must be love,_ Keith thought, before the rest of his brain melted away, and he melted into Shiro.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Keith knew there was something different about the world when he woke up the next morning. It wasn’t that they’d spent the night kissing until they fell asleep—which they had, which had been nice.

 

Shiro was sitting up, staring at a spot on the wall. They’d slept on the floor together; they’d done it before, but last night had a strain of something new underneath it all.

 

“Good morning,” Keith said, his voice clogged with sleep.

 

“I’ve looked up effects of isolation,” Shiro said. “Sarah Shourd saw lights and heard footsteps. ‘At one point, I heard someone screaming, and it wasn’t until I felt the hands of one of the friendlier guards on my face, trying to revive me, that I realized the screams were my own.”

 

“Who’s Sarah Shourd?”

 

“She was a prisoner in Iran who was imprisoned in solitary confinement for four hundred and sixteen days.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Volunteers in research stations in Antarctica are studied for the effects of isolation in groups. They experience changes in appetite and sleeping schedules. Some stop being able to accurately track the passage of time and lose the ability to concentrate.”

 

“Stop quoting scientific journals at me.” Keith rose to a sitting position himself and rolled his neck around his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension in his neck and shoulders. His hand found Shiro’s own where they were clasped together on his lap.

 

“This is Psychology Today,” Shiro said, still staring at his spot on the wall. “They are endorsed by the National Board for Certified Counselors. Published bi-monthly with an online community of psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers, medical—”

 

“Okay,” Keith said, squeezing Shiro’s hand. “I get the picture.”

 

Shiro was still for a moment, then squeezed Keith’s hand back.

 

“I’m here for you,” Keith whispered. “You’re not alone out here. You have me.”

 

They made eggs for breakfast. The chicken clucked at them.

 

* * *

 

“Are you independent?”

 

They were reading Harry Potter—well, Keith was reading Harry Potter to Shiro, and Shiro was looking at pictures of English castles in his head—and Keith snapped the book closed with one finger marking his spot.

 

“Am I independent?” he repeated. He had to be. He’d lived on his own in the desert for years. His parents were _dead,_ for Christ’s sake. “Yes.”

 

“What is it like?”

 

What was it like? It was like becoming a creature of the desert in his own right, blending in with the wild things and the coyotes that howled on the horizon. It was like stealing french fries from the diner downtown when the fry cooks weren’t looking. It was like people staring at you when you snuck around town as if you were feral—though maybe Keith had a different idea of independence at age ten than most well-adjusted adults did.

 

“It was pretty awful,” Keith said, dog-earing Harry Potter and setting it to the side. “I was too young.”

 

“You seem fine now.”

 

“You didn’t see me back then, I was a wild child—I stole things from people, I mean, I would take food out of people’s hands and run away to eat it. But I made friends in high school, and I got a job and moved to a bigger city where people didn’t know me. I don’t know how I did it. I guess… just finding myself out in the bigger world helped. I’ve been in the desert for so long that sometimes, I forget there’s a wider world. That’s why I have that book you like so much. The one with the pictures of all the beautiful places in the world. So I can remind myself that there’s more than this life.”

 

He resumed reading Harry Potter. They’d gone out and bought the next six books with money Keith had taken from an old woman’s wallet when she wasn’t looking. He had returned the wallet after, but old habits die hard.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting. Shiro kissed him and led him to the porch to watch the colors paint the sky.

 

They sat in silence. Keith thought of nothing and leaned into Shiro’s side.

 

Perhaps on impulse, if such a thing can exist in cyborgs, Shiro rose and walked around on the desert sand. He spread his arms to the sun. Keith felt something warm in his chest and smiled for the sensation.

 

Shiro laid down on the warm sand, his arms still outstretched. Keith expected him to say something, anything, but all that reaches his ears is a faint sigh, almost snatched away by the wind.

 

“What are you feeling?” Keith shouted to Shiro. He wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but he knew he wanted to know the answer to that enigma sprawling on the sand.

 

When he received no answer, Keith got up to sit next to Shiro. He needed to know the mystery of the man in front of him. Perhaps this close, they could exchange words as if they were normal.

 

“I don’t often ask how you’re feeling,” Keith said, looking down at Shiro. “I suppose because we’re always together out here. Because nothing here ever changes. But that’s what people say to each other. They ask each other how they’re doing. So I wanted to ask. How do you feel?”

 

“I don’t know how I feel,” Shiro said. He flung his arms out, making angels in the sand. “I feel like… everything. Like I’m everything all at once.”

 

“Like you’re the whole world?” Keith suggested softly. He locked the elbow he was leaning on and looked at Shiro consideringly.

 

Shiro returned his gaze, eyes and lips turned into a lazy smile. “What more of the world is there?” he asked. He lifted his hand to Keith’s face; when Keith tilted his head away, Shiro let his fingertips linger on Keith’s cheek.

 

“So many things,” Keith replied. His gaze flickered to the desert sunset; the jagged rocks and endless sand that made up this landscape, all brushed over with a grisly red. “So much more than this desert. Rivers, oceans—forests, cities, mountains, ice-cold tundras… there’s more to it than this.” _I’m sorry I can’t give it to you,_ he wanted to say, but with the way Shiro looked with the blood red light spilling over him, Keith found his throat closing up.

 

Shiro let his outstretched arm thud to the ground as if he’d gotten tired of holding it up. “I don’t want any more than this,” he said. “I don’t want any more than you.”

 

Keith closed his eyes and laughed softly. “You say that now,” he said, and they said nothing else as the last of the sunlight bled from the earth.

 

* * *

 

They went to town because Keith needed more batteries for their cheap radio. Shiro hid his hair under a faded baseball cap and his arms in a thick leather jacket. Keith hid himself with a little ponytail and a reflective pair of aviator sunglasses.

 

He lifted twenty bucks from some schmuck’s back pocket for the AA batteries and a cheap paperback novel. Some western. Shiro would like the action, maybe. He liked desperadoes.

 

Shiro insisted they buy more wires and electrical supplies. “For the hoverbike,” he said. “I looked up modifications for the Ranger 36 model. Would you like it to be more modern?”

 

“I’m leaving that thing to you,” Keith said. “I don’t even know how it runs. It’s like some alien craft or something.”

 

“Understood,” Shiro said, and they said no more until they got home.

 

* * *

 

When he was out in the desert, Keith fell into an odd sort of sleep schedule, waking up before dawn and falling asleep after the sun set. It was almost enough. It helped when he napped at noon.

 

He woke up to one of those midday siestas to hear Shiro tinkering on something in the side shed. Probably the hoverbike. Didn’t he say he was going to fix it up?

 

Keith rolled deeper into the couch and debated going back to sleep, but however much the deep comfort called him, he knew he had to feed his chicken.

 

* * *

 

“Good night,” Keith whispered to Shiro. He rolled closer on their mess of blankets and pillows on the floor to gently touch Shiro’s cheek.

 

“Good night,” Shiro whispered back.

 

Keith fell asleep easily with the warm body beside him. They were each other’s buffers against the cold night.

 

He wasn’t sure how he dreamed, but he woke up on their blankets alone, reaching for the fading warmth where Shiro had been.

 

“Shiro?” Keith asked, his voice muffled with sleep. Sunlight streamed over their nest and into their tiny home. He vaguely remembered waking up and Shiro telling him to go back to sleep, their interaction soft and warm.

 

Keith sat up. Shiro wasn’t in the corner that held their stove and oven, but there was a plate on the counter with scrambled eggs and bell pepper, and a note next to it.

 

_I made breakfast. I am Outside. I am Working on the Garden. You should rest today. You Work hard. SHIRO._

 

It was written in shaky, childish script. Keith added “teaching Shiro to write” to his mental to-do list.

 

The eggs were well done, but lacked salt, which was easily fixed.

 

Keith didn’t do well without work. He was a restless spirit by nature; a lifetime of surviving had conditioned him to fight for every good thing he had. All he had to rely on was himself. Any soft things he had had left years ago. So waiting like this, waking up late like this and letting Shiro provide for him like this, ate at him.

 

He sat on the couch and looked at their books until Shiro came back inside.

 

“Hello,” Shiro said. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Odd,” Keith said, still looking at their books. “I don’t know. I’ve never woken up this late before.”

 

“Neither have I,” Shiro said, and sat next to Keith on the couch. Almost unconsciously, they leaned into each other. Keith thought it might have been unconscious on Shiro’s part, at least. He wasn’t too sure about himself.

 

“What’s so special about today?” he asked.

 

“Nothing,” Shiro said. “It is Saturday, the twenty-eighth of July. It is one hundred and three degrees. I don’t know what love is, but I think I love it here, with you.”

 

Shiro knew the date? It was _a hundred and three degrees?_ Keith could barely feel it.

 

Without thinking, Keith murmured, “I love it here, with you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro looked at him with all the intensity that Keith forgot the desert held. All he could do was hold on, and pray that Shiro knew that Keith _knew,_ that he was suffering the revelation; that Shiro’s eyes brought him to understand. The galaxies he saw splattered across the night sky, spilling from the scar of the Milky Way, could barely hold a candle to the universe in those stormy eyes.

 

Keith’s stomach clenched. He brought a hand up to touch Shiro’s face, and ran his thumb over the thick scar covering the bridge of his nose. If only he could touch this face, take the weight of the world off of Shiro’s shoulders and onto his own forever; he would do anything to keep Shiro in his embrace for a minute more than he was allotted.

 

“We should sleep,” Shiro murmured, his voice gritty with an edge like the desert’s infinity to his words.

 

So this must be fear—the unbearable thought of losing someone. Keith’s stomach clenched and unclenched, his muscles trembled and rioted; how could he hold something so precious as this man-made, natural machine in his dirty hands?

 

He didn’t want to close his eyes, for fear of losing sight of Shiro.

 

* * *

 

He woke alone.

 

“Shiro?”

 

There was another plate of eggs and bell pepper and tomato and green onion and all the vegetables they’d spent so long farming.

 

“Shiro?”

 

A note, simple words in childish writing— _I am Sorry. I Love You. SHIRO._ Keith clutched the paper in his hand and immediately regretted the wrinkles.

 

_“Shiro?”_

 

He wasn’t in the garden. He wasn’t in their small bathroom. He wasn’t anywhere in sight in the infinite desert that surrounded them.

 

_“Shiro!”_

 

The wind carried his shout across the sand, to the tops of the plateaus and through the rock.

 

_“SHIRO!”_

 

Keith screamed until his throat was raw and sore, endless pleas for the man he—dare he say he _loved—_ to come back, for this all to be one big mistake.

 

_“SHIRO!”_

 

His heart broke all over again. He wasn’t sure when he had let down his walls, unlocked the steel case around his ability to care, but it only served to let his poor, bleeding heart shatter on the floor.

 

_“SHIRO!”_

 

The midday desert carried his shout miles and miles and miles, but it did not reach a single human ear.

 

_“SHIRO!”_

 

* * *

 

The hoverbike, at least, was still there. Keith slung himself onto it and revved the engine, thankful that it did not seem to require a key.

 

Town was close enough. That was his best bet to finding Shiro, probably; though he mentioned he could walk four hundred miles, once, and he could be anywhere in this desert.

 

It took him—what—something like forty-five minutes to get into town. It wasn’t obvious at first, because it was a sleepy, nameless town made of farmers and the merchants that serviced them, but a commotion was going down in the town square. Keith parked his hoverbike on a side street and ran to the jeering voices.

 

Shiro’s skunk hair was easily identifiable. Keith cursed silently—he could barely see anything, and the crowd was too thick to shove through. He couldn’t hear anything at all over the nameless, faceless people.

 

Shiro’s hair moved away. The crowd parted to let him pass. Keith felt his throat dry, and tried to move around the crowd, but the unmistakable sound of a car engine warming up and driving away quieted the crowd, and Keith couldn’t comprehend that he was struggling through a lost cause.

 

God, if he gave up this easily, how had he ever survived so long on his own? How could he call himself a wild child, a creature of the wind and sand that surrounded these pockets of humanity?

 

Keith ran to his hoverbike and almost _screamed_ past the slowly dispersing crowd. They yelled at him and threw things, but Keith couldn’t care; a red car was pulling away, and though the windows were tinted, Keith knew. Shiro was in there. He had to be.

 

The hoverbike was fast, but the car was faster. They left town with Keith tailgating the car. He wasn’t usually such a rude driver, but panic engulfed him, and he couldn’t stand to let Shiro out of his sight.

 

The car gradually pulled away.

 

“Come on,” Keith muttered, pressing down on the pedal. He realized it was the first thing he’d said since screaming Shiro’s name into the desert. “Come on, _come on—!”_

 

No matter how much he urged his hoverbike on, the car kept pulling away, until it was a dot on the horizon. Keith kept going. There was only one place this road led to, after all.

 

* * *

 

Humans want to believe, so badly, that we live on after death. Entire religions revolve around the idea of the afterlife. Lives are dedicated to building a legacy. Lives are spent living up to a creed.

 

Keith left the hoverbike at the gates of the facility. It was strange to be back here.

 

In a detached way, he believed in God. He was there in the small desert churches where other religions weren’t. Keith liked the kindness and faith, and figured it wouldn’t be too hard to get into Heaven. And if that wasn’t where he ended up, then he would have no complaints.

 

The heat from the flames touched his face. Somewhere on the long, desert road, it had become night. Smoke curled into the sky in the spaces between stars.

 

Keith covered his nose and mouth with his shirt. A wet cloth would do the job better, but he didn’t have that. He’d make do.

 

This was where he had rescued Shiro. Keith barely knew what had happened to the cyborg in here, but this forsaken building could not have given him anything good.

 

He’d sworn, once, that he would never let Shiro return here. He knew, even then, that this was some unholy place, no place for good men. They were good men, Keith and Shiro. He desperately tried to believe that he was good, at least, but Shiro, Shiro was good, and he was a _man._ He was human, undeniably.

 

It was on fire. Some parts had collapsed already. Keith hoped that Shiro wasn’t under any burning rubble. He knew he wouldn’t be able to dig him out.

 

The doors were wide open. Keith held his exposed arms close to his body and screamed, _“Shiro!”_

 

No response over the crackling flames, and only a throatful of smoke for his troubles. Keith wondered where all the scientists were, if they were home safe, or if they had fled earlier, or if they were the ash coating his body.

 

His feet carried him to where he had found Shiro the last time he was here. In the light of the flames, he could see directories and labels on the doors: Lab B-225 to the right, Break Room 17 to the left, Project Kurōn straight ahead, whatever that was. Though he’d only been here once before, he felt as if he’d been here a thousand times, and knew that his feet would guide him where he needed to go.

 

 _“Shiro?”_ he asked through the ash and smoke and fire surrounding him, on him, fighting their way inside him. _“Shiro!”_

 

Behind him, a ceiling beam creaked and crashed into the floor. Keith jumped, and gave the beam a poisonous glare.

 

It had ripped a hole in the floor, he realized. Against his better judgement, Keith got closer to the burning beam and looked into the space below.

 

He had no idea there was a _basement_ here. It hadn’t been in the official blueprints he’d scrounged up, but it made sense to keep this a secret, he supposed. From what he could see, the space was huge, stretching wider than a football field. Wider than the property this facility stood on, perhaps.

 

 _“Give up!”_ a voice snarled, muted by distance. Keith could tell it was shouted, though it only barely reached his ears over the flames around him.

 

Keith squinted. His eyesight wasn’t the best, but he thought he could see two figures standing near each other.

 

 _“Shiro!”_ he yelled, his voice sore from screaming and from smoke.

 

_“Keith!”_

 

“Shiro! I’m going to come get you, okay, I’m coming down in a minute, Shiro, you’re going to be okay,” Keith shouted. He barely knew what he was saying and doubted the words reached Shiro besides, but it helped him to say it. Gave him a goal and reassurance.

 

_“Keith, no! Don’t come down here—!”_

 

“I won’t leave you!” Keith screamed. He winced away from the burning beam, realizing he’d gotten to close. “I promised I’d always come back, that I’d never abandon you! I ain’t gonna break that promise now!”

 

Without waiting for a reply from Shiro, Keith bolted away from the hole in search of a way to get down to the basement. He _had_ to get Shiro out of here. He didn’t know when that man had become more important to him than his own life, but it was a truth truer than the sun in the sky.

 

Perhaps this was love, Keith thought. A truth truer than the sun in the sky, truer than the Milky Way scarring its way across the deep, dark night.

 

He slung open a door near the elevators, thinking it was some staircase. He was met with a blast of warm air, but no fire; and it was not a staircase as he had thought, but a room of glowing purple tubes, like the one he had found Shiro in.

 

A sudden and intimate fear grabbed Keith’s stomach. He had to know.

 

With a shaking hand, he reached up and wiped the condensation from the closest tube. Like magic, a face was revealed, floating peacefully in liquid. She looked so serene. She also looked extraordinarily like Shiro—but not quite, with the feminine tilt to her lips and eyes and jawline.

 

Keith went down the rows of tubes, momentarily forgetting his pressing issue downstairs. Wiping away the condensation revealed the human in each tube, with identical serenity on their faces, illuminated in their soft purple light. They all looked somewhat like Shiro, but each one was different in their own ways.

 

Keith wanted to set them all free. If Shiro was anything to go by, then they were all just as human as he was, and deserved life.

 

Regretfully, he left them behind, and shut the door after him. Maybe they wouldn’t be crushed. Maybe, just maybe, he could come back for them.

 

It was getting harder to breathe. Smoke crowded the air he struggled to breathe. There wasn’t much moisture in the desert to begin with, but the fire crackling around them managed to burn away even that small amount.

 

Keith dropped to his hands and knees. It helped him see and breathe a little bit better, but the fire would not give him a reprieve.

 

He was luckier with the next door he pushed open. The staircase ended in yet another door, which Keith assumed led to the basement. It was locked, but Keith had stashed a lock picking kit in his boot, just in case. He had the door open in under a minute.

 

The air was clearer down here. The smoke gathered near the cavernous ceiling, and Keith rose to his feet as he descended. His throat still hurt—probably a symptom of smoke inhalation, but he could worry about that later.

 

The basement space was _enormous._ There were hanger doors everywhere, embedded in the ceiling, lining the walls. Keith couldn’t imagine where they led.

 

A few yards away, he could see the beam that had almost crushed him poking through the ceiling. It didn’t look like smoke had started pouring in through there, and Keith hoped to be out of the facility before it did.

 

“You’re _useless!”_

 

Keith whirled towards the noise. Two figures stood maybe twenty, thirty feet away. He couldn’t make out much about them, but Shiro’s long, shaggy hair was unmistakable. Was he missing an arm? What was going on in here?

 

“You were going to be great,” the other figure snarled. “The _best_ out of _all_ of us, the bright Takashi Shirogane! The _strongest,_ the _smartest,_ the _fastest,_ the most _clever._ You can’t outrun your programming! You are a _machine._ You _kill._ You’ve killed before, and you are going to kill again.”

 

A cough caught Keith by surprise. He’d been hoping to sneak up on the two people, but the sudden seizure of his throat and the ache in his lungs told him that he wouldn’t be sneaking up on anyone.

 

Both figures whipped around to face him. Yes—there was Shiro, and with him, another man with an eerie resemblance to Keith’s cyborg, from the close-cropped skunk hair to the sharp jawline that Keith liked to trace over late at night. There was something different in that one’s eyes. Something malicious. Shiro looked angry, yes, and haunted, but nothing close to the look in that machine’s eyes. The other gave him a sharp grin. It was less of a smile and more of a slash across his face.

 

“So this must be Keith,” the other said. _“Delightful._ He’s why you feel so _human.”_ He spit out the word as if it were a dirty word.

 

“Back off,” Keith growled, then coughed again. His throat spasmed from the smoke still irritating it. He’d inhaled more of it than he thought, and probably didn’t have much time before he succumbed to it. He drew his knife anyway.

 

“Ha ha!” the other said. He didn’t sound delighted. He sounded like he was saying the words ‘ha ha’ at a higher pitch than monotone. “You’re going to come at me with _that_ little thing? _Perfect!_ You are such a little human. Can’t understand, no, cannot _comprehend_ the amount of levels I am above you.”

 

“Shut _up,”_ Keith said, aggrieved at this machine’s words. “You’re so—hah—yerr so pretentious.”

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” the machine said.

 

“I know there’s humanity in you,” Keith said. “Y’ain’t better than me, nor th’ seven billion like me. You want to be, badly, an’ y’ don’t even realize that that’s makin’ you human.”

 

“I believe it’s your turn to shut up,” the machine said.

 

He lunged at Keith, but Shiro caught him with his one hand. The machine clawed down Shiro’s face. Shiro yelled as the machine brutally shoved him aside. He hit the ground with a sickening crack.

 

 _“Shiro!”_ Keith yelled, seeing Shiro’s prone form on the floor. He silently begged him to move. To breathe. To do _anything._

 

“How sweet,” the machine said. He was breathing hard, and pinned Keith under his stare. “You _care_ about that monster.”

 

“He’s just as human as I am, and you know it,” Keith said. He immediately started coughing. It paralyzed him in place as the machine approached.

 

“You wish,” the machine snarled.

 

Keith sank to his knees, holding his knife in one hand and his aching throat in the other. The machine stopped in front of him. Keith could see his reflection in the shine of his boots.

 

“Pathetic,” the machine muttered.

 

Keith swung his knife up with a snarl. He wouldn’t go down so easily.

 

The machine caught Keith’s wrist. He held on tight, and when Keith tried to twist away, he _squeezed._ Keith grit his teeth and didn’t let his grip on his knife fall loose, but it was a near thing.

 

“You don’t know it, but you’ve been fighting me the whole time,” the machine said, almost nonchalantly. “You set my brother free before his loyalty could be programmed, so you have no idea what we are truly capable of, but I can guarantee this.”

 

He squeezed Keith’s wrist again, harder this time—hard enough that Keith could feel his bones bend under pressure. He groaned and dropped his knife. It clattered next to his leg, but he made no move to pick it up again.

 

The machine yanked Keith’s arm up. Keith could do nothing but dangle helplessly. He let his other hand drop to his side. His fingers scrambled for his knife.

 

“My brother and I share programming,” the machine said. “Except for _one_ piece of coding. This _Shiro_ you know is a _lie.”_

 

“Then he is a beautiful one,” Keith said. He gathered the spit in his mouth and spit onto the machine’s smooth, unscarred cheek.

 

The machine stared at him with murder in his eyes and reached up to wipe the gob of spit away. Keith grinned at his handiwork and brought his knife up and stabbed the machine in the side.

 

The machine howled and clenched his fist around Keith’s wrist. The bone snapped easily. Keith screamed at the pain that lanced up his arm.

 

The machine dropped him and stumbled back. He clutched at his side, but black oil—or was it blood?—seeped through his fingers.

 

Keith rose to his feet. He let his broken hand dangle at his side, but brought the knife up, ready to hurt the machine again.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shiro stir. Thank God for small miracles.

 

“Clever, clever,” the machine panted. “Clever… I’ll give you that.” He slurred his words, and distantly, Keith wondered if he’d ever been stabbed before. His blood dripped from Keith’s knife onto the concrete floor.

 

“But not—” the machine coughed and folded at the waist. “Not clever… _enough.”_

 

He lunged forward. Keith tried to block with his knife, but the machine knocked it out of his hand, and it went flying, splattering blood onto the concrete floor. The machine crashed their foreheads together, so hard that Keith felt his brain shift in his head. He fell down onto the cold concrete.

 

The world went fuzzy. Keith spit out a _“shit”;_ not now, not here, he couldn’t let himself suffer this stupid head injury. He shook his head, but that only made it worse. His legs didn’t want to work.

 

Distantly, he could hear the machine laugh. “The world ohn… the world only cares about _power,”_ he said, breathing heavily. “Who has it… who doesn’t. An’, and _you… don’t._ Humans _don’t.”_

 

“Shut _up,_ shut up,” Keith said, still scrabbling for purchase on the floor. He shook his head again. It helped this time. “God, you’re annoying.” He found his feet and readied his fist. If it was a fight the machine was looking for, it was a fight he was going to get.

 

“I’m trying to show you the truth,” the machine snarled. “That Shiro is not the man you think he is. He’s _me.”_

 

Keith let his fist talk for him when he slammed it into the machine’s head. The machine staggered to the side, where Keith was waiting with a knee to his wounded stomach.

 

The machine roared in anger. Keith was seized by a fit of coughing that froze him in place and squeezed his throat. Damn the smoke upstairs. He was sweating down here, even though the fire was still contained to all the floors above them.

 

Keith couldn’t block as the machine swung a fist into his head. It was a sweet retribution, perhaps. As he fell, he heard Shiro scream _“Kei—“_

 

Then he heard no more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ _art!! Art!!!! ART!!!!_ ](http://impendingexodus.tumblr.com/post/176361375867/another-piece-to-go-along-with-before-our-start)


	6. Before II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Keith can even think about escaping the facility, he stumbles upon something a touch odd and horrifying.
> 
> Was it alive?
> 
> Was it human?
> 
> And we’ve now have come full circle.

The ride up to the next level was silent and nerve wracking. His fingers drummed along his crossed arms and his right leg wouldn't stop jittering. Without Rover’s help he was flying solo from here on out, needless to say the sudden lack of Rover’s snarky tone made Keith realize just how alone he was, being completely shit out and isolated, just like—and that—

Keith hated the feeling of anxiety. He needed to push it down somehow, he couldn't afford to lose his nerve over this. And yet his heart wouldn't stop hammering in chest even after allowing himself an extra minute to compose himself. He had to be more careful, its not like he couldn’t handle whatever came his way. And he wouldn't allow himself to risk alerting anyone of his presence. Especially because he couldn't tamper down his emotions. He had come too far to screw it up due to a lack of diligence.

_Ugh, focus Keith_ , he berated himself. He could do this he just needed to calm down.

The elevator stopped and didn't ding like most did, but the door open quiet and slow. Keith was so over the eerie vibe.

As he stepped onto the floor he noticed that there was only one room. At the end of the hall. No other doors…

Seriously? This went from high stakes action film to B-rated sci-fi horror really quick. At least it told Keith where he had to go considering there was only one path.

The hall itself was devoid of any life, human or mechanical wise, he walked passed a series of deep gray bulky objects, attached to them were several sets of barrels. Gun turrets, but at least they seemed deactivated since of course they weren't shooting multiples holes onto his body right now. It suddenly made sense why there was only one hall and nobody patrolling the area, with these in place any intruder that stepped onto the the floor would be shot down to death in seconds.

When Keith got out of here, he had to make to sure to thank Rover for disabling them.

However despite the lack of security inside that didn't mean there wasn't anything waiting for him inside the upcoming room.

The door didn't have a handle and it appeared the only way in was by swiping a keycard through the reader. Good thing he just so happened to have one of those, huh? Thanks a lot stupid Galra worker, you didn't even put up that good of a fight.

Well he hoped that the guy had the security clearance to enter, this could get real sour real quick if that wasn't the case. Keith swiped the card, the door beeped, the light turned green, and the door swooshed open. Seems like the dumb guard was good for something.

He walked up to the first computer he saw, its monitor was a large screen that could probably encompass an entire wall space. The keyboard was probably the length of his torso, he didn't want to imagine the actual size of the computer itself, it's bulk hidden behind and into the wall it seemed attached to.

Not sure where to start he began clicking random buttons, swirling his fingers over the mouse touch pad as he searched through anything that stood out to him or at least made sense. Which was very little at this point, that is until he spotted the word, **Database**. Keith almost had the urge to cry tears of joy.

As Keith click to open it up, he soon came to another problem he wasn't sure how to deal with. There were so many files within the database, folders amongst folders and Keith didn't know what to make do with let alone where to start. Maybe he should search for keywords like ‘weapons’. Keith scoffed and immediately dismissed the idea, that was way too obvious…

Maybe he would save that idea as a backup plan.

Perhaps the best course of action would be to rearrange the folders by date modified and start transferring the more recent files first. Those would be the important ones, right? Considering they were the most recently viewed.

It was worth a shot. Made sense to Keith.

 

**S**. **H**. **I**. **R**. **O**

**Zaiforge**

**Quintessence**

**Naxella**

**Champion/outdated**

**…**

 

Keith frowned at reading the Champion file name. Why would a folder that’s been labeled ‘outdated’ be near the top of the list of files that have been recently modified? Keith shook his head, didn’t matter, he needed to transfer as many files as he could before getting caught. He was alone in the room but that didn’t mean he was safe, anyone could turn up, even during off hours. Another patroller would soon enough notice the mess he made on the other levels.

He had to act fast but perhaps he could take a quick peek while he waited for the files to transfer?

Clicking it open, there were only three folders for viewing: **chmpn**. **000** , **chmpn**. **001** , **chmpn**. **002**. When Keith attempted to click on the first, an error appeared, asking for administrative access codes.

Encrypted files. Figures as much. But he could just transfer it over and leave it to Rover to decrypt. He wasn’t on par with programming as they were, and he didn’t have the skills to try with the limited time he had to work with.

Back to the previous page, he opted on clicking the most recent of viewed files, **S.H.I.R.O.** The first thing that pulled up was a prompt screen with the words Program Launch: **SHIRO**. **chmpn002**.

A second wasn’t spared for Keith to make sense of the name before the prompt screen disappeared and lines of code began generating across the screen.

 

_var SHIRO;_

_var action_generate;_

_interfaceManager.onload – function(){_

_}_

_function origin(log.id, 5H1R0)_

_interfaceManager. setAction = right lateral;_

_process.chmpn—_

 

More lines of code rapidly fired, too fast for Keith to focus properly and make sense of it all. What did he do? Did he somehow trigger a weapon?

The sound of mechanical whirring gave him the answer. Shit.

Keith whipped his head to where the sound was coming from, off to the side where Keith had originally assumed was nothing more than a wall, revealed a set of automatic sliding doors. Still shut, however the hiss of machinery moving gave Keith the impression it wouldn’t be that way for long. 

Next to the doors, a secondary computer lit on. Keith rushed to it, figuring there would be more useful information.

 

_BCI/modes.optimization — finished_

_BCI/sensory input.maps — finished_

_BCI/ms.FMS — finished_

_blyon - functions.index — finished_

_blyon - functions.auto — finished_

_blyon - av.maps — finished_

_blyon - av.fields — 1001 assets downloaded_

 

The number of assets continued to rise and he contemplated on whether he or not he should take back his drive then high tail it and run. Before Keith could make the decision he realized that here in the depths of their top secret research facilities, they were hiding away a serious project. Whatever was beyond that door must’ve been their prized weapon.

Now was his chance. Keith could use this opportunity to sabotage whatever it was Galra worked so hard on in the shadows. It was a reckless decision, he knew but couldn’t possibly pass this up. He would ruin the Galra and everything they’ve worked for. He had to take the chance.

But what came out of those opened doors had unsettled him, his heart pumping overtime, blood rattling through his veins. His eyes widened at what he saw, and what he felt wasn't fear nor was it anger, he couldn't even label it as sadness of some sort.

No, what he felt was horror.

He read the distinctive label, S.H.I.R.O, across the platform the tank rested upon before the final hiss of the tank setting itself in place. What Keith found had his nerves unhinged, their endings hanging on rattled tips.

His eyes were closed and at first glance the figure appeared to be sleeping peacefully if it were not for the way he stood so unnaturally still. Keith stepped up to glass with caution, last thing he needed was trigger the weapon somehow. His fingertips grazed the glass with the barest hint of touch and the cool temperature chilled his fingers at an alarming rate. This must've been some sort of cryo-chamber. Yet he wasn't frozen, he was floating in some sort of liquid. Keith really hoped it was water or something. But the guy didn't have a breathing mask.

Keith didn't want to think of it but what if the guy was already _dead?_

Keith eyes took in everything it landed their gaze on: Black long hair settled on broad armored shoulders. Two armored shoulders that were connected to two fully automated prosthetic arms...

"What did they do you?" Keith whispered to the figure, who remained unaware of Keith’s presence and all other threats while forced into a coma-like state.

This was Galra's most classified weapon that they kept locked away. And they used a human to make it. He had so many questions: who was he, how did he get here, what else did they do to him?

Was he still human?

However the final question that was the most important to answer was what should Keith do now? Was he just going to leave him here? At the Galra’s mercy?

Fat chance.

He checked his surroundings, hoping to spot something that he could possibly help him break the man out. The computer next to the chamber maybe? It seemed to hold information regarding the figure and it’s functionings. There had to be an option that allowed for it open.

He took another glance at the trapped man. But should he set him free? At the sight of his prosthetic arms, Keith felt a chill run down his body. This man must be the weapon they were working on. He didn’t know what would happen once he set him free. He could immediately be attacked or worse killed.

Didn’t matter, this man was a victim and there was no way Keith would just stand here while there was someone being held prisoner and experimented on. It wasn’t right.

He went back to the computer aside the chamber looking at the varying keys and prompt screens. He didn’t understand any of it, this would have been a lot easier if he could contact Rover.

He wasn’t going to let that stop him. He would figure something out. He had to.

The screen alerted that there were still assets downloading. Currently at 3290. He didn’t understand what the assets were meant for. Would it be safe to just exit out the program? He couldn't even find the red ‘X’ in the upper right corner! He tried hitting the escape key but nothing happened. Figures.

Keith was almost desperate enough to start key smashing until a pinging sound stopped his twitchy fingers. He checked the screen and wasn't sure what he did or what was happening.

 

_> >>download_sequence: initializing s2.13 blackout_

_> >>prompt: Exy_program_run (What the hell did that even mean?)_

_> >>systems_functions: S.H.I.R.O initialization launch_

_status pending_

_alert_

_Configuration not finalized._

 

Shit. Did he mess something up? All he did was hit escape! That never works.

 

>>> _download_sequence: s2.13 blackout: status incomplete_

_> >>prompt: auto_override_code: Macattack17_

_> >>systems_functions: loading primary configurations_

_pending_

_20% …_

_35%…_

_57%…_

_82%…_

_96%…_

_…_

_Primary configurations complete._

 

With that there was the sounds of moving gears and mechanical parts once more and the sound of… draining water? One look at the tank and Keith’s hope and slightly fear was right.

The man’s hair plastered itself to his skin as the water was quickly getting flushed down, trickles made tracks across his skin. Over his chin and neck before make its way down his very naked chest…

Keith averted his gaze immediately. Did they seriously have to leave the guy naked? Whatever he had to focus back on the task at hand.

 

_> >>launch_sequence: vlds7.0810_

_> >>prompt: mode.nova_

_> >>systems_functions: S.H.I.R.O finalization launch_

_Pending_

_Finalization complete._

 

The screen went black. Nothing happened.

The sounds of machines moving had stopped, the water had finished draining, even the computers low humming and obnoxious beeping had decided to take a break. It was nothing but a still quiet.

That is until the silence was broken when Keith heard a loud thump against glass.

Keith couldn't deny the rush of fear when his eyes snapped back up to the figure in the tube. Whatever was holding the guy in place he seemed to now now be free of as he kept pounding his prosthetic fist against the glass. Keith flinched over the crackling sounds of the glass wanting to break. Keith caught sight of the others eyes. They were frantic and uninhibited.

That is until the other’s gaze seemed to focus entirely on him. The man’s movements had slowed down when his eyes narrowed in on Keith, with a striking amount of focus that somehow felt it could pierce the air right out of him. Was that why he was suddenly breathless?

But then the man returned to his pounding, over and over, however it was less wild and more determined it appeared like to Keith. The guy was trying to break out whether or not Keith did so before the other could smash through the thick glass tube.

Keith had no doubt that the man would succeed, he caught the first crack, then another two, and then ten before the glass was shattered and strewn about everywhere.

Keith stumbled back and gave ample space as the man hopped down, bearing no mind to the glass underneath his feet. Keith had the sudden urge to make himself small, hide away somewhere, make himself scarce and he hated it. He knew he was afraid and this was his fight-or-flight response rapid firing signals, telling himself to get the fuck away from the potential threat.

But wasn't Keith supposed to help the guy? It didn't sit right with him to go back on his word now. Maybe the guy wasn't even aware of what was going on. He seemed confused enough.

“Who are you?” Keith croaked and he cursed himself for not having a better grip on the steady fear coursing through him.

The man’s gaze zeroed on him instantly but said nothing.

“What’s your name?” Keith tried again, still no response. He grit his teeth, he didn't really know what else he was supposed to do but they couldn't be standing here playing twenty questions. But what option did he currently have? Keith’s legs refused to move, they were shaky as is, any movement now and he was sure he would crumple to the ground.

“Do you know where you are? Or why you’re here?” The man cocked his head to the side as he continued to stare at Keith, as though he were assessing him. Keith almost wanted to scoff at that. Between the two of them, the other was most definitely the more obvious threat. Worse than that, the resounding ensuing silence was suffocating and Keith kind of wanted to throw up.

But more than any of those other things Keith wanted to cry out in frustration. “What the hell are you SHIRO?!” Keith's mouth snapped shut, the rush of adrenaline came back ten fold. He didn't know why he said that. He remembered the name plate across the tube, he made the assumption but he wasn't sure if—

The SHIRO surged forward at such an alarming speed that Keith didn't have time to process whether or not he should move out the way or try to block the oncoming attack. All he managed was a shocked cry as he tripped over his own feet trying to move backwards.

The SHIRO grabbed one of his wrists and hauled him upward to prevent him from falling. He squeeze was tight, probably cutting off circulation or at least crushing bone and cartilage. When the man went for the other wrist, Keith attempted to smack the hand away. To no avail, his hand met some kind of sturdy metal. The SHIRO knocked his sad attempt of a block with ease before maneuvering his grip around Keith’s other wrist. 

Like the man before Keith, his grip was firm and unyielding. Keith was effectively trapped. He tried not to panic but the realization that he was probably screwed made Keith want to trash about and try to get away.

Keith jerked away from the other’s hold on him, or rather tried to, the guy was strong to a ridiculous amount. He growled, this wasn't supposed to happen. He couldn't be caught here, not when he was so close…

His parents… his revenge…

Keith pulled back with every ounce of his strength, he didn't care if the SHIRO wouldn't budge, he had to try. He refused to let things ends here.

Every time Keith gained an inch, the SHIRO, in one swift pull brought him back forward. Each ice a little closer. Keith screamed from the frustration.

“What the hell do you want from me?!” Keith exclaimed.

There was a pause, the pent up energy let loose in one go. Keith was heaving from his previous exertion while the other look down on him with impassive eyes.

“SHIRO engaged.” Was all the man said, spoken in low and evenly—monotone with a certain kind of apathy that disturbed Keith and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. As if the man wasn't even aware of it. And maybe he wasn't. What did Keith know about him? Aside that he's been trapped in this facility for who knows how long. Experimented on, reforged into their sick version of a weapon.

Keith sagged forward into the SHIRO’s chest, he pounded once against it with clenched fists, but the effort was weak and defeated.

“What do you want? Why won't you let me go?” Keith asked and he knew the hint of the whine was due to his desperate fraying nerves.

The Shiro didn't respond just like Keith expected him no to and he let out a tired sigh. Regardless of the man’s past if they continued to linger here neither of them would have a future. They needed—or at least Keith did—to escape.

Determined with newfound resolve, Keith’s first plan of action would be to kick him, preferably where it hurt most.

But then the alarms went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art!!](http://impendingexodus.tumblr.com/post/176576160217/before-our-start-and-after-our-end-art-for-chapter)


	7. After IV

He was lifted—gently, though, so gently—

 

* * *

 

The world was so hot, Keith was so hot, flames licked at his side—

 

* * *

 

Metal crunched somewhere, and he was carried through somewhere. 

 

He saw a door, almost half-hidden in the smoke and flame. It was important, wasn’t it—

 

* * *

 

The desert night cooled his face. He had been sweating. 

 

His throat itched. The itch spread to his nose and ears and up in the space between his eyebrows. He wished he could scratch at his sinus canals. 

 

* * *

 

“Keith,” Shiro said, his voice miles away. “Keith.  _ Keith.” _

 

He opened his eyes. 

 

The heat touched half of his face. He could hear the roar of the fire racing through the burning building. 

 

Shiro’s cool fingers lay over his cheek. “Are you awake?”

 

Too exhausted to speak, Keith nodded. 

 

“What is your name? Who is the president? Where are we? What do you last remember?”

 

Keith was overcome by a fit of coughing. He rolled over to his side and curled into the sandy dirt, holding his throat for dear life. 

 

“K-Keith,” he said. His voice didn’t sound human. “My name is Keith. We’re at Galra Inc—” Another fit of coughing hit him, echoed through his chest and head. He could feel the phlegm moving. 

 

“Good, you’re doing great,” Shiro said. He patted Keith’s back. “Get it out, Keith, get it out.”

 

Keith gathered the phlegm in his mouth and spit it out to the side. It came out black, and he winced at the grating feeling in his throat. 

 

“I remember the door, passing all of them, but—“ He paused to cough— “before that, we were fighting the machine, and you were waking up, and he punched me—“ His voice got tight at the end as he suppressed his cough. It ended up squeezing his lungs and grating his chest. 

 

“The president is—I don’t know—Brachel,” he said in between coughs. “Right?”

 

“Correct,” Shiro said, letting Keith cough as much as he needed to. “She was reelected last November.”

 

“Oh, good,” Keith said, before losing himself to coughing. 

 

He didn’t know how long he’d been coughing. Long enough for one of the ceilings of the building to crash down, at least, and long enough for Keith to get himself under some semblance of control. 

 

“The other cyborgs,” Keith murmured, when he was able. “They looked a lot like you.”

 

“What other cyborgs?” Shiro asked. 

 

“In a room in there,” Keith said, pointing at the burning building. “They  _ really  _ looked like you, Shiro. I—I don’t know. They deserve a chance to live, don’t they? They deserve to be humans.”

 

“Yes,” Shiro said. His voice had an odd quality to it. Keith didn’t know what to make of it. “Are we going to retrieve them?”

 

“I think we are,” Keith said. He laughed incredulously, which aggravated his cough. “Shiro—I think we are!”

 

Shiro shook his head and grinned. “That situation has a low survival rate. I must advise against running into a burning building.”

 

“Firefighters do it all the time,” Keith said. “You know, my dad was a volunteer firefighter. If he can do it, how hard can it be?”

 

Shiro grinned. He scooped Keith’s limp body up and slung him over his shoulders. “Lead me. If the smoke is too much for you, we will leave.”

 

“Okay,” Keith said, and they ran into the burning building. 

 

Keith buried his nose and mouth into Shiro’s sweat-damp shoulder. His instructions were muted by the fire. 

 

The door was blocked by a steel girder. Keith pointed it out, and Shiro pushed the hot metal to the side without more than a shake of his hand. At times like this, Keith remembered how mechanic Shiro was. He could do more with one arm than several humans working together. 

 

The room was just as Keith remembered, seemingly untouched by the fire around it save for the heat. 

 

Shiro set Keith down and reached out to rub away the condensation from the nearest tube. He stared at the serene face for a long time. 

 

“Shiro?” Keith asked. “Not to hurry this along, but we are in a burning building.”

 

“Of course,” Shiro said, and punched a hole in the tube. 

 

The water poured out, and the figure inside collapsed, gasping for breath. Shiro removed more glass from the tube and gently helped the trembling figure out. 

 

She was naked. Keith was looking forward to another stop at the thrift store. 

 

“Instruction?” she asked, in a clear, high voice. She looked at Shiro with doe eyes, then at Keith with the same expression. 

 

“Help get the rest of these people out of here,” Keith said. He was reminded of meeting Shiro for the first time, if one can call that a meeting. He had that same shred hope in him. 

 

“Understood,” she said, and smashed open the next tube with Shiro’s help. She was strong. Stronger than Keith. 

 

Each new cyborg had those doe eyes and that small hope as they asked Keith their “Instruction?” Some were firm in their resolve. Others were trembling, unsure of themselves. Still others were robotic and bored, and still, still others were enthusiastic and bright. All in all, there were maybe thirty five of them, and Shiro, and Keith. 

 

Shiro picked Keith up again in the same way he had before. They looked at the gathered cyborgs; Keith’s gaze flicked over each one of them, committing their faces to memory. He didn’t think his house out in the desert would be big enough for all of them. 

 

“This is what freedom means,” Shiro said suddenly. “It could mean not having to follow orders from anyone. It could mean feeling at peace with yourself and your surroundings.”

 

Keith blinked at his words being quoted back at him. He didn’t think he was important enough to have his words thrown around. 

 

“This is freedom, right here,” Shiro continued. “You are allowed to choose if you want to go with us or not. I’m one of you,” he said, his voice softer. “But this one is not. He is more than us. He showed me how to be more than me. He showed me the world beyond this life. I do not decide for you, but I think—yes, I  _ think— _ that you all deserve a better shot at life than you were given, and you will get that if you come with us.”

 

Shiro’s chest heaved at the end of his speech. Keith couldn’t imagine the overload of emotion he felt. 

 

“Anyway,” Keith said, “we’re going now. At least clothe yourself before you head out on your own. Look it up if you don’t know what that means.”

 

They made their way through the fire together, and didn’t look back to see if any of the cyborgs were following. Keith coughed and coughed and coughed. 

 

“My hoverbike is out in front of the gates,” Keith whispered. “Though if any of the others come with us, I don’t know if I could leave it behind.”

 

“We can run at thirty miles an hour,” Shiro said. 

 

“Fantastic,” Keith said, and meant it. “What happened to your arm? Are you okay?”

 

“I made it into a bomb and turned myself in to blow up this place.”

 

“You  _ what?” _

 

Shiro did not deign to reply, and stopped somewhere on the chain-link fence surrounding the facility. Keith peeked over his shoulder. Almost all of the others were following them—the bright ones, the bored ones, and the scared ones, mostly. Maybe… Keith did a quick head count. Thirty two in all. Thirty four, with him and Shiro. 

 

Keith grinned. He was suffering smoke inhalation, his wrist was broken, and he probably had a concussion, or worse; Shiro’s  _ arm  _ was missing, and he also suffered a head injury; and yet, as Keith looked at the assembled people, he couldn’t find in himself an ounce of regret. 

 

The burning building behind them was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, second only to Shiro in the sunset. 

 

“Welcome to the apocalypse!” he shouted, and cheered to the wild, beautiful desert night.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

**END**

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading this. 
> 
> I want to use this space to say thank you to Nova and Exy for being two amazing individuals. I could not have chosen better partners, and, I hope, friends, to write this story with. They are both sweet and uplifting people, and I am grateful for this project for pairing us together. This time in my life has been stressful and frustrating, but Exy and Nova have lifted my spirits so much with their Easter eggs and caring personalities. I'm a star, you guys! 
> 
> I said this in a comment a little while ago to respond to something sweet: I write to make people feel things, to love and hate and everything in between; to make you feel victory, joy, anger, and sadness. The world is equal amounts of harshness and softness. I write to hold up a mirror to this world.
> 
> I have one more project that I plan to publish in September, but after that, I believe I won't be writing anything else for the Voltron fandom, or anything in general, I suppose. That makes this some sort of hiatus, I guess, but the thing about hiatuses is that they end eventually. So, I might not return with Voltron, but I have a sneaking feeling that I'm going to return eventually. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this story. The underlying theme I tried to put in means a lot to me—not because I'm an android, or a cyborg or anything, but because I believe that we are always discovering ourselves and our humanity. We are constantly becoming more than what we are at this moment. 
> 
> How long is this end comment! If you read all this way, thank you. Thank you for reading this whole story. I love all of our readers, and I especially love Exy and Nova just for being the people they are. They're so talented and amazing and I am a gremlin filled with love for both of them!! 
> 
> Okay I'm done now ^u^ I can't thank you all enough!!!


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